


What's Dead is Dead

by Kyubuu



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, M/M, Slow Build, Slow Romance, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-16
Updated: 2017-04-21
Packaged: 2018-08-31 08:17:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 26,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8571175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kyubuu/pseuds/Kyubuu
Summary: Steve Rogers is dead, and it's Tony's fault. Guilt consumed and desperate for redemption, he works his way to Asgard in search of a way to bring Steve back. He didn't plan on freeing Loki and smuggling him back to Earth, but once Tony makes up his mind, there's no going back. Loki is the key to his salvation and he won't let him rest until he's redeemed himself. Only, now that he and Loki are spending so much time together, Tony's starting to realize just how lonely he's been. He has to bring Steve back, but now he's wondering if he can uphold his end of the bargain and let Loki go.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, thank you for reading! This AU takes place vaguely after the first Avengers and will eventually be Tony/Loki!

Steve Rogers was dead.

Not in the ‘this is what the papers need to report’ way, not in the ‘frozen in ice for a few decades’ way.

In the honest to goodness, six feet in the ground, cold corpse, final farewell way.

And it was all Tony’s fault.

Personal failure was not something he’d ever been able to accept, even in private. But this had been public--at least, if anyone put the pieces together.

It had been a routine mission, if you could call any of them that. Bad guys from space want to take over the Earth, Avengers can’t let them.

They weren’t supposed to be important. They were nobodies. The Chitauri had been more of a threat. This was just a fluke.

But it was Tony’s fault.

He and Steve had been fighting before they’d gotten the alarm. Over something stupid, probably; all Tony could remember was being mad and bitching. Passive aggressive statements, throwing his wit around and being all high and mighty. The morning was all a blur, like time stood still any time he tried to bring it back to memory. Everything was muddled and distorted.

And Steve was dead.

Tony was supposed to have his back. Natasha and Clint had been tasked with sneaking into the spaceship’s mainframe and disrupting their console. SHIELD had made sure they had enough sneaky little pieces of technology that it should have been a breeze, and even if the magnetic waves hadn’t been enough, Clint had made it clear that he was fine with smashing it to pieces anyway.

If he didn’t, Thor was happy to.

The spaceship was large enough that they couldn't maneuver fancy tactics; their size was their greatest weapon. Well, that and the seemingly infinite number of cannons and lasers fixed on the hull of the ship but at close range those weren’t so much of a problem. Thor was making quick work of them, but it had been Tony’s job to keep an eye on Steve.

Like he needed protection or something. Like he wasn’t a super soldier. Like he hadn’t been through as much as they had.

Tony had given him a ride up to the ship and dropped him carelessly on the deck. He hadn’t been taking this seriously from the beginning--but again. A single oversized spaceship and aliens that looked like some ugly mole-moth hybrid? They barely went up to Tony’s shoulder.

They were nothing.

And they were the reason dozens of people were sitting in folding chairs in the middle of a chilly November day, listening to some Priest droll on about the meaning of life.

Natasha was gorgeous, in a black dress so tight he couldn't figure out where she was hiding her guns. Uncharacteristically, he hadn’t looked. Clint had cleaned up. You almost couldn’t tell he had three broken ribs and brand new piece of metal to keep his knee together.

Thor was wearing a suit and looked like he was about to burst from the seams. Tony didn’t know who had convinced him to wear a suit or if he had just been to enough funerals on Earth that he decided he didn’t want to stick out in his battle armor. Not that Thor would ever _not stick out_. He stood a head over half the crowd.

Tony was a mess. He hadn’t shaved, there were bags under his eyes, and he smelled of alcohol. Aside from a few burns, Tony was fine. He didn’t deserve to be, but he was. His suit was crumpled and he’d gotten into another fight with Pepper this morning. She was here, a few rows away. She was too angry to sit with him.

He deserved it.

When they’d been fighting, he had gotten cocky. He was more distracted with nitpicking Steve, chewing him out, trying to piss him off. Whatever he’d been doing. The aliens had swarmed the deck but Steve was taking care of them, effortlessly swinging his shield around. He’d taken all of Tony’s jibes and remained focused on the task.

Tony just got pissed and ignored him. Shoved him so far from his mind that he’d forgotten he was there. 

The ship had fired a barrage of cannons--tracking missiles, heat sensitive, right for him. Tony had been frustrated, distracted. He’d been hit twice and it was impulsive to just get them off his trail. He’d fired one of his own to get them of his trail.

The plan had worked; the missiles followed the superheated flare he sent out. Only, he’d neglected to look behind him and instead assumed he’d shot into empty space. He hadn’t accounted for the fact that the spaceship was rapidly losing altitude thanks to the damage they’d done to their systems.

He’d sent the flare right towards Steve Rogers.

He realized it a split second before it had happened; Tony jerked his head.

He locked eyes with Steve. He watched the light explode in Steve’s eyes. He watched Steve try to pull up his shield to deflect it.

Fire ruptured the ship's exterior, blowing panels and bodies everywhere. Tony’s thrusters were on full speed, charging right into the fire and smoke. The air propelled him backwards and he could feel the heat through his suit.

A flash of red, white and blue went over the other side.

Back then, Tony had been hopeful that he could still make this right. Steve was probably conscious, judging by the way his body twisted in the air. He’d be sore, but he’d be fine. Like always, right?

Tony was blinded by his target. They were plummeting towards the ground at an alarming speed but Tony was still convinced he had everything under control. Steve’s eyes were closed--not from fear, certainly. Not because he was unconscious or anything. Probably just because the air stung his eyes.

That was as good of an excuse as any. 

Tony was fifteen feet from Steve when the first piece of panelling slammed into him from behind. The flaming metal immediately crushed his armor and his rockets shut off. He lost control of his flight.

Ten feet from Steve, though.

The ground was coming up, fast, but Tony was still focused on him. He reached out his hand and thought he could almost reach him. His systems picked up for a second.

Five feet.

Three feet. He reached Steve’s hand.

They crashed into the ground together.

A cold shiver ran down Tony’s spine. He hadn’t heard a damn thing the priest said. He was only vaguely aware of his surroundings, anyway. They were in a cemetery. The smell of fresh dirt was the most offensive thing Tony had ever smelled. He preferred the smell of burning flesh and rubber, even, and that was a smell that had been haunting him ever since he’d woken up, semi-conscious beneath a pile of rubble.

He thought Thor had pulled him out; he was the strongest of all of them. Bruce hadn’t been there, he had stayed at the lab and was feeding them reports of the attack. Not like Bruce--or his big green friend--would have been capable of such deliberate strength.

Thor definitely must have pulled them out, Tony decided, thinking that’s why the larger man was seated solemnly next to him.

A layer of dark grey clouds hid the sun from view, but Tony was still wearing his sunglasses. He knew he looked like shit; he didn’t need people to remind him by pointing out his red eyes and dark circles. A cold wind blew. Tony could smell the rain.

He stared at a single point in the sky, just over the priest. Just over the casket. It was closed, for obvious reasons.

Even super soldiers weren’t flame retardant, it seemed. Maybe nobody wanted to look at him and think of Red Skull.

Of course, they’d tried to save him.

But falling from that height? After that explosion?

They tried. They failed.

But none had failed so much as Tony.

No one had deliberately said it was his fault, but he knew they all had to know. He had barely spoken to any of them, and even if it had been because he locked himself in his lab, he knew.

It was his fault. Steve Roger’s blood was on his hands.

He had taken their leader from them. Not that Tony would have ever really _admitted_ it, but that’s what Steve had been. Their shining star, their golden sun. The goodness that had held them all together. All their broken pieces were made whole when he was around. All their mistakes were hidden by his bright light.

And Tony had killed him.

He was oblivious to the movement around him. He remained seated for a few moments even after the casket had been lowered, even after people had begun to leave. It was only when he felt a heavy hand on his shoulder that he looked up and realized the funeral must have been over.

The rest of the Avengers was nowhere to be seen, but there was Thor, brows knit and lips pursed into a straight line. He was solemn and worn, wearing an expression that seemed unbefitting for the usually delighted Asgardian.

He needed no words to get his point across.

Tony played it off and cracked a grin. “What, you think I fell asleep or something?”

Thor did not return his grin. He would not have, even if he hadn’t been able to tell a broken, forced smile on his friends face.

“The others are leaving,” he informed instead. “We should be with them.”

Tony’s grin faltered only slightly. He couldn’t imagine spending more time with people that knew this was his fault. People that would see him and think of everything he’d taken from them. “...I don’t think so,” he said after a moment. “I should really get home. I’ve got some things to work on.”

Thor’s grip tightened and Tony found that he couldn’t push himself up. 

Thor then, must have been ready to tell Tony this was all his fault. He braced himself for it. Hell, maybe Thor would even give him a good whack with that hammer of his, put him out of his misery.

There was no hammer, and as soon as he stopped trying to get up, Thor loosened his grip. Did not remove his hand, Tony noted, but loosened his grip.

“We should be with them,” he repeated.

Tony could take a hint. Thor wasn’t exactly Mr. Subtle.

“...Look,” Tony began, wondering if there was some way he could worm his way out of this. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to grieve, it wasn’t that he wasn’t taking this seriously. It was just, Tony couldn't accept failure. He couldn’t concentrate on anything. There was a bottle of scotch--or twelve--waiting for him at home.

Talking with his friends, eating, talking about Steve, that wasn’t going to help. The only thing that would help was _forgetting_ or _fixing_ , and Tony didn’t think any amount of research would bring back the dead or go back in time.

He licked his lips and continued, “Look, Thor, I just…”

“I know what it is like to lose a brother,” Thor interrupted.

Tony froze. Steve was not actually what he would have considered a _brother_ , but they had a bond. Outside of Howard Stark, of course. Steve and Tony had fought, often. They butted heads and were, in many ways, complete opposites. But they worked well together, when they chose to. Perhaps Thor had seen their bickering and compared it to him with his brother. Perhaps he had seen them in combat enough to know that each other’s strengths balanced out their weaknesses. Perhaps, the only difference was that there wasn’t an _evil_ brother in the mix.

Loki wasn’t dead, of course. Just imprisoned on Asgard.

Which might as well be dead for all that Tony had heard of it.

He had not, however, heard Thor talk of Loki in some time. His gaze lifted to meet Thor’s, silently imploring him to continue.

Thor obliged. “The pain will not go away if you ignore it. It will leave a hole in you. But you can fill it.”

“Oh?” Tony prompted, almost purely to humor the man.

Thor nodded. “Fill it with what happiness you can find. You have good friends. They will help. You cannot dwell on the dead. Know that he died a warrior, and warriors are always rewarded. In Valhalla--”

“We don’t have a Valhalla,” Tony shot back suddenly. There were no great halls. Maybe there, in his realm, but not _here_. Dead was dead. “We have this--this life, and that’s it. The end,” he shot back bitterly.

Thor was not taken aback; instead, he lifted his head. “You are angry,” he noted.

Tony resisted the urge to say, ‘ _Well, fucking, duh,_ ’ for many reasons.

“I do not believe friend Steve is gone, forever. He was a warrior befitting our Halls. He will be rewarded in death.”

“Not really any way to check that theory, is there?” Tony asked bitterly. If there was an afterlife, he’d have thought someone would have found it by now. He wasn’t one to trust blind faith. He couldn’t console himself so easily.

Thor shrugged; his faith was not blind, but he could travel to other realms. He could venture to Hel to reclaim a lost soul if he really desired. Not here, on Earth. Of course, Asgard had many things Earth didn’t have. Life after death was a nice perk. And Thor had told stories of healers that could bring back the dead.

...And Artifacts that held untold wonder.

Tony was silent for a second, mind ticking. Things Thor couldn’t use, for one reason or another. Things Odin would keep banished from Earth, lest they fall into the wrong hands.

Things that could fix Steve, probably, if only Tony could _get_ to them.

Tony cleared his throat suddenly, mind working quicker than it had since he’d heard of Steve’s death. Even through the haze of grief and alcohol, gears were turning. “...I’m sorry, Thor,” he said abruptly. “I just can’t get it out of my head. All of this. It’s driving me crazy. I feel like the walls are closing in. I can’t clear my head. Everything around me is…” He lifted a hand to his temple and held his head. “...You’ve got the whole universe to clear your thoughts. I’ve got this one little place. I can’t get a moment of quiet. I’m lashing out at people and I don’t want to hurt them. I need to get out of here.”

Thor’s expression softened and Tony found himself encouraged. “Do you really think there’s a place out there, where warriors go? Even from Earth?”

Thor nodded. “I do.”

And Thor fell for it. He fell for Tony’s hitched breathing, his desperate words, and he offered, “Perhaps it would ease you to see with your own eyes?”

Tony pretended to consider it and nodded slowly. “I don’t know. Perhaps.”

He was better at hiding his emotions than Thor was, and found himself grateful that Thor was oblivious to the mad desperation broiling in his stomach, consuming his mind.

Thor nodded. “Let us partake in the feast to honor our friend. You will return to Asgard with me.”

He clasped Tony’s shoulder once more, reassuring, before pulling him to his feet.

Tony had no appetite, but he allowed it, and even offered a slightly more convincing smile for his friend. The sunglasses still hid the emptiness in his eyes.

Tony had hated himself long before this, but Steve Roger’s death was too much for him.

He didn’t want to use Thor, but they’d understand, in the end. He’d make this right.

No matter what it took.


	2. Chapter 2

Despite the number he’d attended, Tony had grown no more comfortable with funerals nor receptions. In an ordinary situation, he went home buzzed and slept it off.

Tonight, he’d arrived less than sober, and he left with enough alcohol in his system to take out an ordinary man. 

But Tony wasn’t ordinary.

Pepper had watched him from a distance and while she didn’t approach him, he was certain she was the reason the alcohol had been moved to the back. But he was _Tony Stark_. He didn’t need free alcohol to get wasted.

Not when he had the good stuff at home.

He couldn’t remember much of his evening beyond his talk with Thor. He probably made a fool of himself and earned further disdain from his teammates. It didn’t matter. Let them hate him as much as he hated himself. Let them see the monster hiding behind the cracking shell of a man.

He deserved it.

He deserved the hangover he felt in the morning, and the throbbing in his skull when a heavy knock rapped on his door. He didn’t need JARVIS to tell him it was Thor.

Though less grim-faced than before, Thor had looked tired and only wore the faintest smile. 

Tony knew it was because Thor must have hated him. Or he’d really screwed up last night. Probably both. It didn’t matter. Thor had come to talk of Asgard. Tony was a mess and could barely focus on what he was being told so he wound up nodding absentmindedly. Thor was talking about hunting some monster, visiting some god, drinking some _drink_ \--that was the only part he could stir his brain for.

The best part of all of it was that Thor was happy talking to himself. Tony could just sit there and pretend to drink coffee and nibble on toast.

Morning turn to noon and Tony remained half-heartedly listening to Thor talk. He wasn’t sure if the Asgardian had always been so chatty or if this was a special occasion but it made him wonder all the same: how much was Thor keeping to himself?

He’d lost his brother, yes--but was it really losing much? They had grown up together but from what Tony could piece together, Loki had always been the black sheep. Dabbling in magic and sorcery, nose buried in books while Thor was out adventuring with his other friends. Thor had spent time with Steve; they were the odd ones out. 

They came from different worlds and perhaps had found solace together. Steve was trying to fit in and Thor barely wanted to.

Was Thor looking for another replacement, now that he’d lost Steve? And before Steve, who had there been? Probably Loki, all things considered. Thor _would_ have been the type to put all his secrets in the hands of some untrustworthy sneak.

The bad news about sobering up was that Tony was more aware of what was going on and could be reminded of his guilt. The good news was, he could work on a plan. He’d already tried and failed a few things--a cybernetic robot to download Steve’s consciousness in? It would be a synthetic personality but Tony liked to think he could do a pretty good impersonation. But it wasn’t the real thing. Going back in time? Sure, how much could he screw up?

Bringing him back from the dead?

There was magic for that. Basically no catch, right? Or, at least, he was smart enough to weasel his way out of a catch. Probably.

Only, Tony knew _science_ , not magic. In fact, the only reason he was considering _magic_ was because his science had let him down. 

Anthony Stark was a genius, but an escape from death had eluded all men. So far.

Asgard had the benefit of age; he would seek their secrets, if only to further his own agenda.

Thor was laughing about something and clapped him on his shoulder, drawing him from his thoughts once more. Tony smiled, grateful for Thor’s obliviousness.

He didn’t give the Asgardian enough credit, though; Thor was more aware of the emptiness in Tony’s eyes than he let on. He was not here for himself, not entirely. He was here for his friend.

In their own way, the Avengers had been a family. Steve was a brother to all of them. Adopted, of course.

Naturally, Thor could sympathize.

Humans were weaker than Asgardians, and their society dictated they should grieve in ways he was not entirely accustomed to. Tony was not celebrating Steve’s life, he was obsessing over his death. Thor’s friends were strong and mighty, and Tony was, too.

Just not right now.

Tony was slipping into a shell of himself that was quickly growing unrecognizable. It was not the first time he’d resorted to drink as an escape, but that wasn’t what worried Thor.

What worried Thor was the way he would slip into quiet contemplation, staring at some spot on the wall or something. Thor knew he wasn’t listening.

Thor had known Loki long enough to know when he was being ignored. But, he let Tony pretend, because it made Tony feel better, and that was enough to make Thor feel better.

They spent the day together, ultimately doing nothing. They both appreciated the distraction. Sans the two of them, there were no visitors to the tower. 

Everyone was grieving, in their own way.

Tomorrow, Tony would go to Asgard, because Thor thought he was helping his friend escape the weight of a world that was crumbling down around him.

Tony’s stock had crashed--not permanently, certainly, but it was always a blow to his ego when the numbers dipped. It was likely not something that would even affect him in the long run. But he was fighting with Pepper and drinking and two steps away from slipping into more self destructive habits. 

Tony was a mess, and Thor hadn’t been able to save Steve.

So he would save Tony, instead.

-

Tony didn’t know what to expect when traveling to Asgard; Thor always made it look so easy. The reality of it was that it felt like your skin was being sucked from your body; muscles and blood and bone followed, but all at different speeds. You wound up torn apart and shoved back together by the end of it.

He was glad he hadn’t eaten anything before traveling; Thor had warned him it could be a bit overwhelming. Thankfully, his lack of food was soon to be remedied. 

On Earth, Tony would have considered it an immense welcome home feast.

Here, it was apparently just dinner.

He was welcomed to dine in the hall with the Asgardians, so he did. His belongings--mostly journals, technology, tools and a few clothes--were stored in a room near to Thor’s. He didn’t have time or permission (though no one had said so) to explore on his own, so just stayed close to Thor.

It wasn’t just Odin’s cold stare that made him want to stay within range of his friend; many of the Asgardians watched him with as much interest as they did disdain. At least, until Thor introduced him. What Asgardians regarded him with hostility seemed at peace after Thor’s introduction. Apparently, the Man of Iron was held in high esteem. Or, they liked Thor enough to overlook any hard feelings towards him.

Thor had gone out of his way to string stories of his bravery.

He left out the one about he valiantly blew his teammate to smithereens, but, hey. Maybe he was saving that one for another day.

Tony’s snark had been snuffed out; he was by no means _just_ a shell of himself, but he wasn’t the man they’d heard stories about. Perhaps, some noticed. Odin might have, with his strangely piercing eye. Frigga, who sat next to him and was the exact opposite of her brutish looking husband, regarded him with a kind smile.

They did not speak beyond basic introductions; Thor all but abducted Tony and dragged him around like a toy to meet his friends. He boasted and praised and told stories while they ate and drank late into the night.

Tony drank, but not enough to make a fool of himself--for once, this month, it seemed. Asgardian alcohol felt different than even the good stuff back on Earth. It made Thor loud but it made Tony quiet.

Quiet was bad for Tony, so he drank more, thinking he must have been doing it wrong.

It was dark when the hall had emptied. Thor’s friends--Sif and the Warriors Three, of whom Tony had been introduced to no less than five times this evening, despite sitting at their table all night--seemed reluctant to leave the table first. Tony suspected it was a pride thing so, naturally, he resigned not to be the first to leave, either.

Thor, with his wide grin and loud laugh, could drink his problems away. Being with friends gave him some spirit back. He had told tales of the legendary ‘Captain America’ tonight, regaling in his friend’s great adventures.

Tony had tuned them out because there was a chance that Steven wouldn't _have_ any more great adventures.

No. No, he told himself, because he had to.

He wasn’t going to quit.

No matter what it took--he was here. If it meant breaking into Odin’s vault, hell--maybe he would. He wasn’t drunk enough to think that was a good idea yet. 

Thor stood from the table and rested his hand on his shoulder for just long enough to heave him up as well.

They parted on good terms and said good night to the Sif and the three men. Thor was strangely quiet when they made their way back to their rooms.

Before, Tony had thought all doors looked the same. It was only when they came back that one door seemed to stick out. The wood seemed darker than the others, and the doorknob was entirely different. It seemed to have a sturdier lock on it. Unlike the others, this one was obvious even from a distance.

It wasn't interesting enough to make Tony ask about it, but he stopped to examine it silently.

Thor noticed and paused.

His brows narrowed and he sighed, running his fingers through his hair. “Loki was always different.”

“Hm?” Tony asked, shaking his head to glance at the taller man.

Thor nodded to the door. “Loki’s room. No doubt you felt the spell of his dark enchantments.”

Tony raised a brow. “No, the lock was different.”

“Mm. Yes, that too. He was always one of secrets. Father wanted his room cleared out, but Mother has forbidden it. I do not know why.” Thor turned away. “He isn’t coming back.”

With this, Tony found his curiosity spiking once more. “No, he’s in the dungeons, isn’t he? For how long?”

“Forever, I suppose. Father may change his mind in years to come. But he is dead to this household.”

There was a forced bitterness in his voice. Thor did not truly believe the words he was saying, he only wanted to. The betrayal ran deep, but he loved Loki.

Maybe there was hope for himself, if Thor could be so forgiving even now. Perhaps Thor would forgive him for his ulterior motivations. Tony inclined his head at the door once more. “What dark spell has he cast on his room? Does he really have anything so valuable in there?”

Thor shook his head. “It is unlikely. Only his books, I think. But the door is locked to all weapons and spells. Perhaps we could get in, if we wanted. But it would bring up only bad memories. He is not the same young man who once lived across the hall from me.”

Tony nodded, but the plan was already in motion.

He was but one door down from Thor’s room, and that meant there was a challenge resting just on his doorstep.

Picking locks was no problem; he’d been doing it since he was a child. It was the easiest sort of trouble to get into, offering Tony a locked door. Sometimes, he didn’t even care what secret was hidden inside. Sometimes, he liked just proving that he could do it.

It would have been too easy to assume that Loki would have had some life restoring potion just hidden away in his room, but Tony was aiming for the bigger picture.

Thor knew little of magic, and had admitted as much on more than one occasion. He was painfully oblivious to the treasures hidden away; in the company of his friends he had not shied away from the topic, but he seemed to have little to share. Tony had poked and prodded where he could, but Thor had admitted that his studies focused on heroes of old and training. He had not said Loki’s name, but Tony knew.

Loki had been the one to learn about magic, and artifacts, and all the dark secrets behind them.

Like Tony, Loki had sought knowledge.

But he drew the line at what they might have had in common there. Or, he tried to. Thor had escorted him to his room and once alone with his own thoughts, Tony wondered if Steve had felt betrayal in his last few seconds of life. If he had felt the splitting horror that Thor had felt when his own brother turned against him.

Tony did not sleep well that night.

He stared at the ceiling until his eyes burned. He saw Steve’s eyes, heard his scream, felt his fingers brush against his.

And then he saw fire, and heard crunching, and smelled smoke and flames.

Another nightmare, but he deserved it.

He deserved this pain. He deserved to feel the flames licking his skin.

There was ice, though. A strange, burning ice. It didn’t hurt, but it ate away at his dream. It numbed him--to everything. Everything moved in slow motion. His thoughts were too sluggish to drag him deeper into the mental hell he’d prepared for himself. The screams were muted, the pain numbed.

He dreamed of Steve’s eyes, only some time in the night the eyes had turned green.

They were not Steve’s eyes, but they called to him all the same.


	3. Chapter 3

All in all, it was a bad plan. He had come here scheming what, to break into _Odin’s_ vault of treasures? The idea of breaking into Loki’s room seemed like good practice, though. There was a sick feeling in his stomach, not at the idea of being caught but at the idea of what he might find.

Loki was the start of most of his problems. Sure, there was getting kidnapped, Obadiah, _those_ problems, but Loki was when the drinking really started. That was when the seams started coming undone.

You couldn’t really just turn off the problems he’d had after that.

It was worse than nightmares. This was a paralyzing, crippling fear. Being in deep space for even just that moment had been enough to leave him combating something greater than he’d ever known. He’d have died a hero, if he’d just _died_.

A part of him relished the thought, but Tony, for all his self-harm, didn’t want to die. Hero, or otherwise. At his core, he wanted to live.

Even now, with Steve’s blood on his hands, he wanted to live.

But he couldn’t live with himself like this. He’d drive himself mad or work himself to death; he simply couldn't come to terms with what he did.

When he tried, he felt his heart pound in his chest. He felt the cold sweat blossom over his skin and he felt both like he was being crushed into a tiny box and stretched apart across the universe. 

Tony wasn’t supposed to have panic attacks and refused to acknowledge he had become subject to them.

The drinking helped take the edge off, at first. It helped his muscles relax, filled him with a welcome warmth. It brought him peace and eventually, after enough drinks, made his mind stop twisting and choking itself.

Of course, then came the anger, the extreme irresponsibility, making himself sick with alcohol poisoning. But--hey. For a little while before then, he felt okay.

If Loki hadn’t brought the Chitauri to Earth though, Tony wouldn’t have developed such wonderful coping mechanisms.

So, of course, he hated the man.

A pasty, narcissistic pretty-boy hell-bent on claiming Earth as his own? People had _died_ \--for what, his pride? If Thor couldn’t forgive him, Tony sure as hell couldn’t. He was still paying for repairs.

It would serve Loki right if Tony found his diary. He’d make him the laughing stock of Asgard if he had the chance. Not that Loki would know, trapped in his little prison. It was better than he deserved. If Tony’d had his way, Loki would be strapped to a table in his lab. Or SHIELD would have him. Or they’d have just made it easy and put him to death.

...But there was no point in wasting a useful asset. It just sounded like they were wasting him anyway, letting him rot down in a prison cell. Certainly his magic would have been more useful in rebuilding what he’d destroyed. Or, maybe…

Rebuilding what Tony had destroyed.

The downside of Asgardian liquor was that Tony had very little tolerance to it. He’d woken up vomiting and starving, but feeling _alive_ \--and strangely, not hungover.

He’d cleaned himself up, paced, gotten dressed, and schemed. 

And hated a good bit. 

But Tony was good at hating, and hating Loki was a good distraction. It took less than half an hour for Tony to sneak out of his room and across the hall to Loki’s door. There were voices around the corner so he knew there wasn’t really time to try and pick the lock or gather much information about it. He settled for taking a few pictures with his phone and getting a digital scan of the lock.

Thor seemed to be on his schedule; it was a stroke of luck that Tony’s phone finished scanning the lock only a few seconds before Thor opened his door.

Tony had been on edge, anticipating that someone would spot him in his mischief, so when the handle to Thor’s door suddenly unlatched, Tony had scampered over and somehow managed to look like he was just about to knock on the door.

Thor, surprised, grinned, and greeted him with enthusiasm. As expected, Thor suffered no effects from his late night drinking.

While Tony wanted nothing more than to slip back into his room and analyze his new data, he had to play off the lie he’d constructed. Thor escorted him to breakfast, though they were late enough that they had little more than scraps left.

Asgardian scraps, of course, felt like a five course dinner to Tony, so he had nothing to complain about there.

Tony was impatient, but he understood the necessity of appearances. He let Thor drag him around for a few hours and show him around--and to be fair, he was grateful to know the layout a bit. His favorites were the library, the healers, things he might be able to eke some information out of. Thor was careless in his tour, he’d even shown him where the prison was--though he made no effort to enter them.

They seemed a passive thought to Thor, who mentioned the gateway to their prisoners as though it were no more than a well-stocked pantry. He had no reason to think that Tony was interested, and Tony was happy to let him hold that misconception.

His fingers glided over the phone in his pocket as they walked, wondering if his program was done running. He was excited to have a puzzle he could solve; collecting the pieces was frustrating, but this was one step at a time.

Naturally, Tony understood that he needed to take small steps, but all he wanted to do was break out in a run. It felt like he was screwing around, like he was letting Steve and everyone down all over again. His mind was roaming over possibilities in his head, desperately aching for the satisfaction of progress.

Thor had noticed, of course, that Tony wasn’t all there. He could see the dark haired man slowly being consumed by his own thoughts. The way he seemed to be physically present but mentally distanced.

Because Thor had been there before, too. He thought time and space would heal all wounds, but they didn’t.

Sometimes they just meant the wounds deepened and festered, and suddenly the man you’d grown up knowing as a brother was hellbent on destroying you and everything you loved.

But Loki had always had a darkness in him, even if Thor had been too blind to see.

He could see it now, blistering in Tony. There was a sickness there, eating away at him. Tearing him apart.

Tony wasn’t managing. He was pretending to manage, but he wasn’t. The problem with Tony was that he thought he was so much smarter than everyone else-and certainly, in some regards, he was. Another trait Thor had seen in Loki.

And yet, for all their wits, they both seemed to forget that those around them could _see_ when they were falling apart.

Bringing Tony to Asgard had not been easy, and Thor would not let Tony know how hard he had argued with the Allfather to grant him a stay here. He had screamed until his face was red and moisture bubbled in his eyes, until his throat was hoarse and he deafened his own ears.

Odin was a wiser man, and perhaps he too saw the darkness growing in a desperate man. Frigga had softened his heart though, and Odin had permitted the conditional stay.

Even if Tony had known the extent of Thor’s dedication, he wouldn’t have been able to stop himself, though.

To him, Thor was his usual overbearing self. He was too blind to his own thoughts to realize what Thor was trying to do for him. No, Tony had always been on a different level than Thor and even now he couldn’t be bothered to think about what was going on in _his_ head.

They were both thinking about the same thing, though: Loki.

-

Tony’s watch told him it was only eight thirty in New York, but it felt like it must have been several hours later. He had used nearly every excuse he could think of before Thor finally let him escape to his room.

The scan had finished running hours ago and Tony found himself both relieved and agitated; if he’d been able to sneak away hours ago, maybe he wouldn’t have had to keep playing this game. The fake smile, the fake laugh. His face hurt from just _pretending_ to feel anything.

The lock was just a lock, nothing fancy. He could have picked it in a minute or two. It was the enchantment that was keeping everyone from meddling--and probably fear of Odin, and Thor still trying to protect Loki in whatever way he could. While he could tell that there was some sort of magic, he couldn't quite identify what. He might not have been familiar with what the Asgardian runes meant but he could see them engraved in the heavy metal. 

Loki probably thought he was so smart, with his magic and whatnot.

Of course, Tony was smarter. Science trumped magic, every time. And Loki had been sloppy with his magic.

Naturally, Tony had researched it as much as possible after the attack on Earth. It was more than just fascination with some foreign power; Tony had to be the best. Partly for his ego, and partly to make sure he didn’t let the people of Earth down. Where there was one attack, there could be more. 

Maybe not from Loki, but from someone.

Combined with records he’d stolen from SHIELD, Tony already knew how to disrupt the magic, at least temporarily. When he'd packed his bags, he'd considered that first. He might not have brought a full suit of armor, but he knew that he could make just about anything he needed to.

In this case, he didn’t have to make anything; he’d come prepared.

While on Earth they’d discovered a secluded cove in California, brimming with strange crystal growth. Naturally, Tony had procured a number of them before SHIELD moved in and closed the area off. He had their files on the cove bookmarked, though in skimming he’d only learned that they were trying to research a lost ship. _Space_ ship, no less.

But life had gotten in the way and Tony had pushed it to the back of his mind.

The crystals, though. The crystals resonated energy at a frequency unlike anything he’d ever seen. He had been _delighted_ to discover--by pure accident, of course--the way the crystals almost immediately negated all ‘magic’ in the area. It had totally warped two phones and a week’s worth of progress on one of his suit improvements but you didn’t make an omelet without cracking a few eggs.

He’d transported a small batch of crystals with him; they were ugly little things, silvery and always covered in condensation. He hadn’t even graced them with a name yet, just ‘Subject 07XR’. He couldn’t even remember what it stood for, now.

But it didn’t matter.

He held his phone off to the side in one hand, examining the lock once more. The scan of the room had been unsuccessful but he was far less concerned with that. Tony was good with snooping. 

With his other hand, he dug through his bag and pulled out the lead lined box. He managed to open it with one hand and withdraw two crystals before placing the case on a nearby shelf. He pocketed his phone, careful to keep it far away from the crystals. Of course, he’d improved the design since the last mishap, but he didn’t want to take any chances.

His watch was equipped with all the tools he’d need to pick a lock, so he didn’t really even have to do any work. He just had to make it look like he was staying in his room, tucked in bed and sleeping while the Asgardians had their usual dinner feast.

Tony slipped out of his room and across the hall; there were guards around two corners, but this hallway seemed mostly unoccupied. Probably for the best, if it was mean to house the royal families. It would have been negligent to let strangers wander freely.

Ah, if only Thor knew.

But Tony felt no guilt when he stood before Loki’s door. Only anxiety.

He held his breath and lined his watch up with the hole in the lock before pressing a button. Two small picks twisted out and jammed themselves into the keyhole just as he pressed the crystals to either side of the lock.

The thing about experimenting with crystals was that they were still unstable. So, when Tony found himself suddenly thrust backwards three feet from the contact, he shouldn't have been surprised.

As he sat on the ground, stunned, and with a throbbing tailbone, he still gasped in surprise.

Not because of the impact--but because the lock was dangling from the door, apparently blown out of the wood. Which meant he either needed to get into the room quickly or fix it quickly, before anyone noticed.

Neither of which was going to be accomplished while he was sitting in the middle of Asgard’s halls.

Tony scrambled to his feet and pushed the door open; it would have been wise for him to expect more traps-- _he’d_ have had more traps--but he didn’t even check. He pulled the door closed behind him and slipped in.

Loki’s room was dark--too dark to see, so he fumbled with his watch while the picks disappeared. Before the flashlight turned on, Tony had to rely on his other senses.

First, this room was cold. Unnaturally cold. He had goosebumps and felt a chill in his blood that countered even that of the warm adrenaline racing through him.

The second then, the smell. It smelled of dust and old books, though when the flashlight came on he could see that the room was spotless. It smelled of incense, or candles, or herbs or something--like nature, but stale.

The bed was perfectly made. It was simple, in its own way; his own bed in the guest chambers was more elaborate. His bed was larger, golden and hewn with strong details.

Loki’s bed was carved, in wood, and upon closer inspection Tony realized that the wood _did_ feature extremely detailed embellishments. But they were simply more subtle. Strange, given how much Loki seemed to strive for attention. The giant horns on his head seemed like a dead giveaway that he’d want to have everything large and in your face.

The room didn’t seem very personalized; there was a desk and what looked like writing supplies. Green curtains, green bed sheets, _green_ , everywhere.

Ultimately, the room wasn’t very telling. It looked almost like a guest room, itself. The window had an extra lock on it, but from this height it seemed like a little overkill. 

He had to make quick work of what he could; Tony started with the desk. 

Parchment. Ink. Words he couldn’t decipher. Hidden compartments in the desk were the first thing he looked for, but Loki wasn’t stupid enough to hide anything of value. A few more scraps of paper, though these were different from the crisp, unsoiled sheets he had carefully filed away.

These were crumpled, dirty, and faded. The ink was smudged in droplet shapes, marred by rain or--judging by the few stray drops, tears. Or spit, but one was far likelier than the other. Loki just didn’t seem the sort to keep drool-smeared documents with Thor’s name signed at the bottom.

Or, at least, he assumed that was Thor’s name; he’d seen it appear on documents back on Earth whenever they had _official_ business.

Odd, that these papers were important enough to keep. He pocketed them, figuring no one would miss them. The hidden compartment, unlike the rest of the room, had not been cared to. It was stiff from lack of use.

It was another puzzle Tony could decipher back in the safety of his room.

But he wasn’t here for fun, despite how interesting picking apart his worst nightmare sounded. He could chalk this up as work, though. Blackmail might benefit him, down the road.

But he felt no closer to bringing Steve back.

He moved to the bookshelf, riffling through the texts. The books were all leatherbound and many seemed either handwritten or embellished in gold. It was clear which had been acquired and which had been gifts.

He opened the largest one and took a few pictures with his phone, mindful to deposit the crystals in another pocket long before he risked damaging his technology. There were some pictures--plants, so probably not very interesting. He only cared to identify what language this was in and see if he could program something to decipher it.

Tony photographed the words on the spines of the books and a few pages from other books, careful to return them to their spot on the shelves.

He went to the closet, rifled through clothes, dug around.

More green, _surprisingly_. But nothing else, really.

No weapons, no tools, no magic, no answers.

Just the satisfaction of breaking into his enemy’s private quarters.

There was a part of Tony that thought he should defile it in some way, but even the childish impulse to destroy something of Loki’s was easily brushed aside.

The thought was there, but he didn’t have the energy or motivation.

Tony wasn’t himself. If he were himself, he would have taken care of his appearance, flirted with the Asgardian women (and taken a few back to his room, probably). He’d have been able to enjoy the food, enjoy their technologies.

Tony was a wraith, in many ways. As each day passed, another part of him died. 

He wasn’t unsalvageable, but he wasn’t in any condition to be fixed. He didn’t want to be fixed.

He didn’t _deserve_ it.

Ten more minutes of rifling through Loki’s belongings delivered little answers about the man who had tried to enslave him and Earth, and either this room had been raided or Loki had done a damned good job of hiding everything revealing about himself.

Or, maybe, he was just the most boring person alive.

But a man with eyes like that couldn’t be that boring, and it wasn’t just anyone who could try to _take over the world_.

There was more to him, and Tony knew it.

And he was going to find a way to use him.

Ultimately disappointed, Tony had accepted the reality that he wouldn’t find much in Loki’s room. It was just a sick pleasure that had passed the time while he tiptoed towards his end goal. He pressed his ear to the thick door and listened, waiting for any sign that he wasn’t alone.

Fifteen seconds of silence and he figured he was safe; he opened the door and slipped into the empty hall. Fixing the lock that he’d broken was easier said than done and he didn’t want to risk being caught with the stolen papers on him. Thankfully, the illusion of being fixed worked just as well; he shoved the lock back into its hole in the door and while a close inspection would have revealed its condition, he doubted anyone would notice it while it mattered.

Tony didn’t plan on being here for more than another few nights, if he could help it.

Let Asgard feast and drink.

Tony had work to do.


	4. Chapter 4

Translating the six sheets of paper proved to be harder than Tony had imagined. He had worked for three hours straight and made next to no progress--even while running several programs off his phone and portable laptop. The devices--alongside the arc reactor in his chest--cast an eerie blue glow across the room. Tony was sitting on the floor presently, but he couldn't really remember how he’d gotten here.

An unfortunate side effect of his poor sleeping habits, probably.

He should have been worried that he was blacking out.

He should have been worried that he was throwing up blood, too, but he had an excuse for everything.

The taste of bile was still in his mouth; he’d tried to wash it out with water but it had only made him sicker so he’d just given up and accepted his punishment.

His throat burned and his eyes stung; his head was pounding and he had been trembling since he came back from the bathroom. He was starving, lightheaded, and dizzy.

But he kept telling himself he could do this.

If Pepper were here, she’d have forced him to sleep. Probably shoved medicine down his throat. Hell, she might have even smothered him with a pillow until he passed out to make sure he was actually getting some sleep.

But he’d chased her away, too. For the best, otherwise he might hurt her. She was strong, in her own way, but not like Steve.

Tony’s computer beeped and flashed another red signal--’NO MATCHES FOUND’.

Frustration had been slowly building; he squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose before swearing under his breath. He wanted to break something. He wanted to smash his fist against the wall until they both crumbled. He wanted to hurl his computers out the window and scream at the top of his lungs.

...But he didn’t. Instead, he typed in a few more codes before he shoved himself up violently enough that he thought he was about to vomit again. It felt like his stomach hit the ground and his head hit the ceiling. He turned green and grit his teeth before making another run to the bathroom.

Tonight was going to be a long night.

-

Tony woke up hunched over, face plastered against some decorative trunk. His face was numb at first but tingled painfully after he rubbed his cheek. The rush of blood to his cheeks stung so he slapped himself. Twice. Three times.

And thought about slamming his head into the trunk, but even just entertaining the thought was about as self-destructive as he could get.

He had dreamed about Steve again, and his skin was cold and clammy and covered in goosebumps. He was going to be sick again.

He had to get this taken care of.

-

Four days passed and Tony's health had declined. For the past two days he didn’t come out of his room. Thor had taken to knocking on his door and trying to pressure him to join him for a meal, a walk, anything.

Instead, Tony had stayed holed up in his room with books from the library.

Books he could understand. Books about the realms, books about herbs and magic.

Life and death.

Myths that talked about bringing back the dead. Dark spells. Things he supposed were supposed to be children’s fairy tales, but he had long since learned that the stories told in Asgard all had root in some truth. They might have embellished things, but there was a grain of truth in every fairy tale.

And that was all he needed.

He obsessed. He wore himself down.

Papers were strewn everywhere, because for some reason it felt like he was doing more work when he could be surrounded by stacks of failed equations and dead ends.

He had considered a hundred different equations, a thousand different reasons why he shouldn’t pursue _Loki_ , but he wasn’t looking for an answer that would take him years to find. He was looking for an immediate answer. Instant gratification, as it were.

On the night of the fourth day, when Thor came to knock his sad, hopeless knock, Tony opened the door. Tony even smiled for him.

There was worry in Thor’s eyes but his face lit up immediately when Tony didn’t reject him, and he immediately drew the smaller man into a hug.

Tony was too far gone to appreciate it.

“Friend Stark,” Thor greeted, voice honeyed and full of relief. “I was worried I would have to break down this door. You have not taken food in days.”

“Yeah,” Tony said, forcing a dry laugh from his throat. He gestured to the mess. “Guess I got busy. You know how I get.”

Thor looked at the mess and held Tony in his hug while he reviewed it. “Indeed,” he replied before releasing him. Once more his hand was on Tony’s shoulder, strong and reassuring, like the contact alone would be enough to strengthen him. “What has possessed you for so many days on end?”

“Oh, the usual. Earth stuff,” Tony said, waving his hand nonchalantly. “‘It’s not a big deal, you wouldn’t be interested.” His mouth was parted to move to the subject he really wanted to talk about, but Thor persisted.

“I care! Tell me,” Thor said, in a voice that might have compelled a lesser man to spill his secrets.

Tony was firm, though. “Lotta science, mumbo-jumbo. Don’t really want to take the time to go into it.”

Thor watched him, regarding him with a knowing expression. They stared at each other for a long moment. Thor relented though; his pride wasn’t to be damaged. He knew when to pick his battles (sometimes). “Very well. I will not pry. But in exchange, you must join me for lunch.”

Tony would need his strength; he did not argue. “Good, good. Yeah, I’d like that. Hey--”he started, in that tone that made it sound like he’d _just_ had a thought. “You know, I was thinking. Reading some of your books, you know,” Tony gestured to the mess again like that explained everything. “You’ve got a lot of interesting things going on. You mind if I throw some questions at you?”

For what it was worth, Thor beamed.

He knew Tony was keeping secrets, but in his own desperation to see the man mended, he mistook Tony’s questions as a sign of him reaching out. A sign of him trying to communicate, to rejoin society. An effort to give them something in common, something to focus on aside from Steve. “It would be an honor.”

“Good, yeah. Good,” Tony said. He was talking quickly, like he did when he had too much going on. He clapped Thor on the arm and pushed past him, quick to reach behind him and close the door. “Well, let’s eat. I’m running on empty and I’ve got a list.”

Once more, Thor smiled. “And I have all day. And all night!”

But, Tony didn’t.

-

Using the excuse of a headache, Tony had managed to pull Thor from the great Asgardian hall. They each had plates and goblets, though Thor’s plate was, unsurprisingly, far fuller than Tony’s.

Thor had taken him to the garden, a place apparently unappreciated by many others besides Frigga and some hand maidens. They sat on a bench, beneath a tree whose age rivaled its beauty.

Not that Tony appreciated it; he made small talk with Thor while he picked at his food. He waited until the conversation was right. This wasn’t something that could be forced. He needed it to look natural.

He was talking about some rumor, probably started by bored children, that a building he'd never heard of was haunted. Thor had become impassioned during the story, regaling all the details he could recall. He'd been talking about the same thing for ten, fifteen minutes, and it seemed he was finally drawing to a close: “--and that, they say, is the sound of lost souls--ghosts--wandering these halls.” He paused, watching Tony as he waited for his response.

Tony honestly had zoned out for the first half of the story but he had paid enough attention to know that this was his chance. He snorted and nibbled on a piece of meat. “Ghosts, huh? ...Funny to think that Asgard might have them.”

“Not so!” Thor exclaimed, as if wounded. He laughed, trying to put on a good face for Tony. He was good at it. “We have spirits, all the same. Not all of us pass into the realm of the Undead.”

“Ah. What’s the difference, then? How do you know who goes and who doesn’t?”

Thor shrugged; he was eating what looked to be the leg of a some large bird and tore a mouthful from the bone.

Tony watched out of the corner of his eye and forced a soft laugh. He waited a few seconds, deliberately allowing the silence to fester, and then he asked, “Can you bring them back? Your lost souls.”

Thor’s eyes flicked to him but he pretended not to notice. Though he could have spoken around his mouthful of turkey, Thor pretended like he needed a few seconds to collect himself. He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and spoke solemnly, “I will answer your question, my friend, but do not take it the wrong way.”

Tony’s brows knit and for the first time in a long time, Thor had his full attention.

“Yes,” Thor finally answered. “There are ways. But they are dark and dangerous, and always with a cost.”

“I don’t know what you’re getting at,” Tony scoffed, jabbing his fork into a carrot as though it had offended him.

“I know his death weighs heavily on you,” Thor answered slowly.

He couldn’t say his name now? Tony grimaced and stabbed at his food again. “I was just asking, Thor. I told you before. It’s different on Earth, I get it. It’s just a question.”

Tony was defensive, and once again Thor let him have his victory. “I am sorry. I too thought of it, when I heard the news.”

Tony didn’t look up, just mumbled a bitter, “‘Oh? Why didn’t you?”

“There are few who would study such dark practices. To play with the souls of the dead is frowned upon. It would upset the goddess, Hela. The Valkyries too, perhaps. Odin, most certainly. There is always a price, and a risk. It is not a perfect practice.”

“How?” Tony demanded.

Thor lowered his food; his appetite had long since diminished, but like Tony he was keeping up appearances. “A body can be healed, but the mind and soul are not always so fortunate. Even if they wander, you can call them back. But they do not always return as they were. Time passes differently, for the dead. Perhaps a moment passes, or perhaps a year passes. You cannot tell and neither can they. It changes a person. They lose themselves. Or,” he shrugged. “So I’ve heard.”

“So you’ve heard? I take it that means you don’t actually have an experience with it.”

Thor shrugged. “I do not often spend my time in the company of the dead. Undead, or otherwise.”

Tony was still poking at his food, gazing intently at the mess on his plate. 

Thor continued, “I have no allies who have dabbled in such, in any case.”

This, Tony expected. Still, he quipped, “Enemies?”

“Probably,” Thor answered earnestly. “But I would trust none, even if they offered.” He took another bite. “Nothing good can come of it, it any case. Erase the thought from your mind, perhaps you will sleep better.”

Tony’s eyes shot up and he searched Thor’s face, but Thor wasn’t looking at him. Tony knew he’d woken up screaming at least once in the past few days but he hadn’t figured anyone would have known. Thor’s face didn’t betray any accusation or sympathy so he had to write it off as a coincidence. His pride wouldn’t let him accept anything else.

He forced a laugh that came out sounding more like a deranged giggle than the reassuring chuckle he had intended but Thor still didn’t look up. “Don’t worry, big guy. Pretty sure you and I have completely different circles. You keep your friends and I’ll keep mine. Don’t want to get mixed up with any new enemies, sort of have my hands full.”

Thor nodded. “Aye,” he agreed.

It wasn’t really true of either of them. They both liked the challenge. Even if their ultimate goal was to keep the world safe, Thor had a need for glory in his blood and Tony had built himself up on overcoming each and every obstacle he faced. 

“Hypothetically speaking, though,” Tony said after clearing his throat. “How do you get the power to do that?”

Thor seemed irked but he kept his temper in check. He chewed for a few seconds and answered, “I wouldn’t know. I am unlearned in magic. My mother knows, but she does not study the dark arts.”

The same mother, Tony supposed, that had taught Loki. Who, if he had to guess, _did_ study said dark arts.

Which meant, his plan was sealed.

If he was going to go through with this, there was only one option.

“Good, good for her. She seems nice, your mom. Not sure how Odin hooked her,” Tony said, leaving it open ended.

Thor picked up his head; there was a fresh smile on his face. “Yes, well, there is a story behind that!”

Of course there was. Tony allowed a wearied smile. He felt no joy.

He had spent his life hating Captain America, hating how his father praised him. But it wasn’t a real hatred. It was just jealousy. The truth was, there was a part of Tony that wanted to _be_ Captain America. Not that he’d have ever admitted it.

This wasn’t just about him. This was about everyone.

There would never be another man like Steve Rogers, and in a world as dark as it was now, they needed him. The Avengers needed him. Everything Tony had ever stood for--or rather, everything he had ever _wanted_ to stand for felt like it was coming undone. It wasn’t the same without him.

The Avengers couldn’t exist without him. Steve was the good of the world that wasn’t supposed to die. The last beacon of hope in a crumbling world.

An enemy hadn’t killed him, but a friend.

So it should be justified, then, that Tony would rely on an enemy.

Two wrongs might not have made a right, but Tony was about to make a hell of a lot more than two.

Tony wasn’t a good guy. He’d been the Merchant of Death before, and apparently he still was now. They’d been saying he was bad news for years..

Who could really even be surprised?


	5. Chapter 5

Tony made his move that night. 

It wasn’t hard to figure out what he needed to do, really. And he was certain that he _could_ do it, even with what felt like the ever-present stare of Odin at his back.

Tony knew all about Odin. Between Thor and SHIELD, he knew about him and Heimdall and the heavily armed warriors that always seemed to be patrolling, somewhere.

The blueprint of Asgard hadn’t been difficult to obtain; every walk with Thor yielded new information. Tony was constantly scanning, constantly collecting information.

Even with grief and failure lurking over him, Tony was still confident. Still ambitious. Learning Asgard’s weaknesses. It was easy.

Not even just for a genius, either, probably.

Asgard was focused on defending from outside, not within. Their shields and barriers could protect them from the enemies attempting to invade, but not the ones who already had. The ones who were within their walls could pass, unseen.

Or, mostly unseen.

Which meant, Tony could either rely on Heimdall being distracted, or he could provide the distraction.

Tony intended to be prepared, whatever happened.

That evening, there was a _party_. So far as Tony could tell, in no one’s particular honor. But, it was glorious. It put even most of _his_ parties to shame. There was food, and merrymaking, and it was so loud he thought he’d lost hearing in his left ear.

The best part was, all of Asgard was in attendance. Odin at the throne, and Heimdall in the shadows.

And Tony had spent the day hiding his science projects around Asgard, just in case Heimdall wasn’t the sort to cut loose every now and then. On top of that, he’d returned all the books he’d borrowed from the library and picked out a few more--random. Asgardian history, literature, metalsmith. Things to distract them from what he’d really been researching.

Slipping out of the party had been easy; Tony had approached Thor while massaging his temple. “Hey, man,” he greeted. “Lovin’ the party, but I’ve got a killer headache. You mind if I split?”

Thor had seemed surprised but simply clapped him on the shoulder and nodded. “Be well. Do you need a healer?”

“No, no.” Tony smiled. “I think...I’m going to get some sleep tonight.”

Thor’s expression softened.

 _Bless him_ , Tony thought. He must have thought their conversation earlier had gotten to him.

Tony’s gut dropped as he looked at Thor, who was regarding him with so much compassion. “Of course,” the Asgardian said. “I will see you in the morning.”

Tony nodded and gave one last wave before he pulled away.

Heimdall was on his eighth mug, and Asgardian stomach or not, that had to be a good sign.

Tony slipped from the crowded hall with minor difficulties; it certainly _seemed_ like everyone in Asgard must have been in attendance. The halls were empty. The two guards that usually paced the stairwell to the dungeons weren’t in attendance.

Butterflies multiplied in Tony’s stomach as he ran his fingers over the miniature robotic in his pocket. He seemed to appear innocent enough when he stopped to tie his shoe near to the dungeon door-- _just in case_. He pressed the little red button that brought the bug-shaped spy to life just as he set it on the floor. Its legs twitched away from its body and it rose to stand on legs no larger than toothpicks.

Tony stood promptly and pulled up the application on his phone. In the corner of his screen he could see the camera view; using a few basic commands he was able to puppet the little machine on whatever course he chose.

He retreated to his room, all the while guiding the mechanical creature down the stairs. 

Five minutes in and he’d yet to see a single guard. What he _did_ see were cells. No bars, just a strange electric field. Oh--well, probably ‘magic’ for them, but it didn’t matter when he had the right tool to disrupt that, too.

The prisoners were predictable.

Mostly he just saw ugly monsters. Creatures he didn’t recognize.

A few prisoners looked like they might have been Asgardian.

And then there was Loki.

The moment that dark haired, pale fleshed menace appeared in the corner of his camera, Tony recognized him.

Loki’s hair was longer, brushed neater than the last time he’d seen him. Without his armor he looked smaller.

The cell was not so unlike the others, surprisingly, and he was in the same hall as a number of other, gruffer looking men. Had he not recognized him from his attack on Earth, Tony might have thought he was like any other prisoner, though his cell _was_ furnished a slight bit better. Loki was using none of the furniture in his cell--no chair, no desk, no bed; he was pacing. He had one hand wrapped around his chin and his eyes seemed far away. There was something about the way he moved, though. Something that didn’t seem natural.

Tony forced the camera to look around the rest of the prisons. There were no guards, but still too many prisoners for him to think he could get in entirely undetected.

Plan B was, of course, going in with a disguise. Which was good, since it gave him time to pack a few things. He might have come here knowing he was going to do something, but his plan was sort of a quickly thrown together _attempt_. Honestly, it was more like a guess than it was a plan, and Tony had severe doubts that he’d be able to convince anyone that he wasn’t up to no good.

But he was going to try..

The camera remained on, spying in the prisons, while Tony went to his room; he grabbed only a small bag and shoved a few things in--the crystals, the papers he’d filched from Loki’s room, a few small electronics. He needed it to look like he hadn’t been planning on leaving, so he left enough that no one would notice anything was missing. 

And, speaking of things no one would notice…

Tony messed up the room a bit and made the bed look a little more slept in before he slipped into the allway, but on his way down to the prison he stopped by Loki’s room. He fiddled with the doorknob and was surprised and pleased to learn that, with the lock broken, it seemed like the magical charms hadn’t returned. Without anything stopping him, he slipped inside and went to the closet. He knew what he was looking for and fished around until he found the first cloak.

Green, of course, but whatever. If he’d wanted red, he should have gone to Thor’s room. 

Tony tugged the cloak on and pulled up the hood before he slipped from Loki’s room, careful to push the lock in place once more. His strides were quick and deliberate and he made his way to the prison entrance. Anyone who saw him might think he knew exactly where he was going with how fast he moved.

The truth was, his nerves felt like they were on fire. His adrenaline had spiked. This was the point of no return.

When he reached the bottom of the steps, he kept his head bowed and face hidden.

No guards, still. No prisoners had noticed. It was quiet, sans his heart pounding in his ears.

The cloak whipped around him as he moved. Every step was fierce and deliberate. He didn’t even need to rely on his phone to guide him. 

He turned one more corner and could have sworn the temperature dropped by twenty degrees.

He almost faltered when he caught sight of Loki, still pacing. No one had seen him yet.

Tony shoved his hands into his pockets to make sure Loki didn’t see them trembling.

Tony wasn’t afraid. Or, rather, he was terrified, but he needed to be fearless. There was more than just Steve’s life at stake.

He missed only a beat, and thankfully Loki didn’t seem to notice. Tony resumed his stride until he was standing half a foot from the barrier imprisoning the greatest threat Earth had ever known.

The pacing stopped, and slowly Loki turned his head to look at the cloaked figure. His brows were narrowed inquisitively and he slowly turned to face the newcomer.

Loki did not greet him with any clever snark, just inclined his head and placed his hands behind his back.

Tony lifted his chin, smirk in place.

Loki’s brows narrowed, suspicion immediately roused.

“Miss me?” Tony asked, crooked grin perfectly in place. He clenched his hands into fists.

He could do this.

“Not particularly,” Loki said slowly, but there was that little spark of interest Tony had been hoping for. His green eyes scanned the room as if looking for some sign to what trickery this must be.

“Oh, too bad. I missed you.”

Loki’s voice was flat. “Really.”

Not a question. But then, Loki hadn’t asked any yet. He was just watching Tony.

In the same way Tony was watching him.

“No, actually,” Tony replied quickly, “But I bet you’re used to that.”

Loki rolled his eyes and took a step back, annoyed. “What is this?” he finally snapped.

“Well first, Hi, Tony Stark. You might remember me from the Avengers. You know, from Earth. The one you tried to--”

“I’m very well aware of _who_ you are. What I’d _like_ to know is what you’re doing here,” Loki replied, lips pursed.

“Yeah, well. Was sort of hoping I’d have a better lead in than ‘Hi, let’s go.’”

He’d piqued Loki's curiosity. “‘Go’?” he parroted slowly.

“Yeah, go. As in, you scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours.”

There were others noticing now; Tony could feel their eyes on his back. No guards yet, though. 

Tony continued, before Loki could speak, “I need your magic. You help me, I’ll get you out of here. The alternative is--what, you spend a couple thousand years in here, wither away, die…?”

Loki watched him coldly but Tony could tell he was thinking. “This was not approved by Thor,” the prisoner deduced.

“Yeah, uh. No. So, you should probably make up your mind soon because when he finds out,” Tony shrugged and trailed off. He was pretty sure Loki got the picture.

The Asgardian--Jotun?--took one more step back and then turned slowly, pacing once more. Tony eyed the manacles draped around Loki’s wrists; he noticed how Loki had hidden them intentionally when addressing Tony initially. Now, he had a straight view of them. It was either a slip or purposeful; Loki was giving him something else to think about without saying anything.

“Thor said you can bring back the dead,” Tony added, hoping to get Loki on the same page--fast.

Loki glanced over his shoulder at Tony and mouthed, ‘Oh,’ silently. Even without a voice, Tony could _hear_ his smugness.

Not what Tony wanted, but if that’s what it took to get him to _agree_...

“Is that so. Who was it?” Loki prompted. “Girlfriend?” He paused for a moment and tried to read Tony’s impassive face. When Tony didn’t reply, he hummed a noise thoughtfully. “No. Boyfriend?”

Tony gave him an exasperated look. “Yeah, cute, really. But if you don’t make up your mind soon--imagine this--you get a new cellmate because they’re gonna be pretty pissed when they find out I thought coming to _you_ was a good idea. Or, I mean,” he jabbed his thumb over his shoulder towards the exit. “I could just go, I mean. I’m sure you get offers like this all the time.”

“No,” Loki said quickly and took a step towards Tony once more.

There was desperation there. Be it intentional or a slip, Tony didn’t care; he had his attention.

“What do you want? --Just to bring someone back to life?”

“Can you do it?” Tony asked seriously.

Loki debated for a moment and glanced at the cells across from him. At the door. At the posts the guards should be in. His eyes quickly landed on Tony. “Yes.”

Scrutinizing the dark male in front of him, Tony narrowed his eyes. “Now, you wouldn’t be lying to me, would you?”

“As if I’d need to. I can do it,” Loki insisted.

The other prisoners were getting restless so he shifted on his feet and gestured to the glittering walls that imprisoned him. “And you really think your primitive Midgardian technology is capable of doing what I cannot?”

Tony smirked and reached for the crystals in his pocket. Not yet though. “I know it can.”

Of course, Tony actually didn’t know, but Loki didn’t have to know he was talking out of his ass. He hadn’t _tried_ his theory, but he had confidence in it.

“The question you haven’t asked me though, is how I’m going to make sure you don’t betray me.”

“I figured you’d let me know,” Loki replied blandly.

Again, that spark in his eye; Tony could see he was holding back.

“Yeah,” Tony laughed mirthlessly. “You probably won’t like it.”

“I really don’t care, Stark. Are you going to keep running your mouth or are you going to do something?”

Tony knew that Loki had no magic. At least, for now. Thor had given them a full report the first time he’d been back to Earth after ‘the Incident’. What magic he did have was limited, and usable only in the confined space of his cell. In the event of an escape, as long as Loki wore those manacles, he was screwed.

One of the prisoners across the hall shouted something in a language Tony didn’t understand; Loki apparently did; he was hiding his emotions, but the corner of his eye twitched. Whatever had been shouted must have offended Loki; He looked at Tony again and asked, irritation plain in his voice, “ _Well_?”

“I don’t think we can leave the way I came,”Tony said, digging out two things from his pockets. The first, the crystals, which he let Loki see. The second, a pair of disks no larger than a half dollar. These, he kept hidden. “But I’ll bet you know more than one way out of this place. One way that doesn’t involve jumping off a bridge, yeah?”

Loki scowled. “A favorite story of Thor’s?”

“Yeah,” Tony drawled; he could hear people moving behind him, banging on their cell walls. It filled the hallway with a strange, metallic hum. “Something like that. Step back, would you?”

Though uncertain, Loki obliged. He took two steps backwards and Tony held up the crystals that had helped disrupt the magic on Loki’s bedroom door. The glowing golden runes flickered and faded for a few seconds; it reminded Tony of holding a magnet to a computer screen. It didn’t last for long though--as soon as he moved the crystals away, the golden lines reappeared.

Loki watched, apparently impressed that he’d managed to even do that much.

Tony tried pressing the crystals to the barrier once more, this time with more force. _This_ time, he felt his hand pass through the barrier, just slightly. The metallic hum vibrated louder and Tony took that to mean he was doing _something_ right. 

Loki had another idea though; his eyes flashed and he held out a hand. “Wait,” he insisted, but the rest of his words died on his lips.

He had seen the sparking, the magical disturbance around the crystals, that Tony had not. By the time Tony felt the spark, it was too late. Like a shockwave, it rippled in circular waves from the contact point. Tony was thrown backwards but managed to catch himself even as he stumbled back a few steps.

Loki was not so fortunate; he had taken a step forward just before the explosion and, off-balance, wound up flung backwards. He was not injured but seemed more affected from the backlash of the crystals than Tony had.

Then again, Tony was not magical. 

The other prisoners seemed more aware of what was going on now; there was a loud commotion behind him and he knew their time was going to run out sooner rather than later. He adjusted his hood again, careful still to ensure that his appearance was hidden.

He moved quickly to Loki and extended a hand. “Get up,” he instructed.

Stunned by the blow, Loki instinctively reached out a hand.

Things played out just as Tony had hoped.

He planted a disk in each hand, careful to keep each facedown. The second Loki accepted one hand, Tony grabbed the other and applied pressure to the center of the disk. Immediately, metallic tendrils stretched in all directions, like magnets snapping together. By the time Loki realized what form they were taking, it was too late; he tried to twist his hands away and fling the expanding gadget somewhere where it couldn’t _touch_ him.

His efforts had no impact; the panels locked into place, sealing each of Loki’s hands into fists. His hands were totally encased into fists, giving him no use of either. As if having his hands simply bound in metal wasn’t enough, after each finished sealing, they hummed loudly and snapped together, thumb to thumb.

“What is this?” Loki asked sourly.

They both knew what it was.

Tony just grinned and heaved him to his feet. “What, did you think we were going to walk out of here holding hands? I don’t trust you not to snap my neck the first chance you get.”

“Well, now that you’ve put the _idea_ in my head,” Loki muttered, voice trailing off. He gave the imprisoning gloves a test tug and found himself even more agitated when they didn’t yield.

But Tony wasn't done: he took the crystals he’d just discharged and shoved them into slots on either side of the gloves--to which, Loki grumbled, “Highly unnecessary,” under his breath.

“I’d knock you out and throw you over my shoulder if it wouldn't slow me down.”

“Charming,” Loki replied dryly, but he wasn’t wasting time. He was already making an effort to move out of the cell while the barrier was down--and then he froze.

Tony turned and gave him a little push, mindful to keep his chin down so that the hood still concealed his face. “Hurry up,” he ordered, but Loki didn’t budge.

Finally, Tony lifted his gaze enough to see what had the man so rigid.

Loki’s cell wasn’t the only one that went down.

The prison halls were already being flooded with prisoners keen to escape before the guards caught on.

“ _Fantastic_ ,” Tony muttered; too much was going on for even him to process just exactly how much he’d fucked this up.

Loki did not seem to share Tony’s concern; a slow grin spread across his face. “ _Fantastic_ ,” he agreed.


	6. Chapter 6

Tony’s eyes snapped to the man next to him and he was only the _slightest_ bit disturbed that Loki seemed to be enjoying the Chaos. “--Excuse me?”

There was a lot more at stake for Tony so it stood to reason that he was going to be a bit more unnerved. He didn’t know how dangerous these criminals were, but if they were grouped in the same area as _Loki_...this wasn’t good news.

Loki didn’t seem worried though; he stood a little taller and walked a little prouder. “You’ll have to try to keep up. I’ll leave you behind if you slow me down.”

“Fancy words for a guy who’s pretty helpless right now.”

Loki bristled and shot him a glare. “Far from it. Shall I give you a demonstration?”

For the first time in awhile, Tony had a moment to look into Loki’s eyes. Sure, it wasn’t an opportune moment, and instead of being productive they were just wasting time seeing who could exude the most testosterone with looks alone. 

Something in those green eyes made Tony’s breath hitch. He couldn’t identify the emotion immediately; it was like an electric shock had started from the ground and moved through his whole body. He could feel a tingle from his toes to his fingers--and even his brain felt like something had just short circuited.

Was it fear? Was the reality just setting in, that he had unleashed a _war criminal_? --One of Earth’s most _dangerous_ criminals? And, worse, he was planning to--what--kidnap him, hold him back at Stark Tower? Force him to do work--give him access to magic he could use to try and kill him, escape, and enslave the world?

No wonder he looked so smug--Tony’s plan had so many holes in it that this was just an inevitability. He didn’t have enough leverage. Once they got out of Asgard and back on Earth, he didn’t have anything to keep Loki. The bonds on his hands wouldn’t break easily, but they weren’t perfect. The crystals--and Odin’s manacles--would keep his magic in check, but there was no telling how long. 

Tony was searching Loki’s eyes, his face, like there was some sort of weakness to be read.

And yet, Loki was unreadable. His eyes narrowed suddenly and he leered forward, bringing his face closer to Tony’s than the man expected. “--Is that my cloak?” he demanded, suddenly, jerking Tony back to reality.

A cocky grin split on his face--natural, almost. He didn’t have to just force it to keep up the persona--he _felt_ it. The rush of emotions, the _life_.

It had to be the danger.

“Oh, yeah. Good color on me, right? Really brings out my eyes.” He batted his lashes for good measure, but there was only so long they could screw around for. He wrapped his arm around one of Loki’s and pulled him out of the cell. “Can”t wait to show you all the other cool things I found in your room.”

Loki’s lips pursed tightly but Tony stopped looking at him.

It was a good thing he didn’t; the moment they passed the threshold of his cell, Loki was cut off from all of his powers. His body suddenly felt like lead and he stumbled. Quick to catch himself, or perhaps as keen as Tony was not to show weakness, he played it off that he was shoving past the nearest obstacle.

The prisoner Loki made contact with stumbled in another direction, crashing into someone else entirely. Even if it hadn’t been an accident that time, Loki would have instigated a brawl to create further distraction anyway.

He was too damaged to get into a real fight, and now that his powers were entirely sealed, he lost the sorcery to cast an illusion over himself.

Loki was paler than the illusion would have let on, with dark circles under his eyes. His hair, while groomed, was longer and in dire need of maintenance. He was thinner, and dark bruises mottled much of what skin he had exposed.

With the brawl raging around them and Tony so distracted with trying to keep his face hidden, Loki figured he could use that as an excuse for the inevitable questions that would come. If he hadn’t lost Tony by then.

Only, Loki wasn’t planning on running. Not yet, at least. He didn’t know what this mortal wanted from him and while he hated being indebted to anyone, even _he_ felt inclined to help anyone who would break him out of this cell.

The security of Asgard’s prisons were, obviously, fallible. If a _mere human_ could get in and break him out, what would stop…

Loki jerked away from Tony suddenly; it wasn’t enough to lose the man but it was enough to make him skid to a stop. “You’re going the wrong way,” Loki snapped, pulling Tony away from the staircase back to the castle. “That’s where they’ll come from, anyway.”

“Then could you _move a little faster_?”

Tony was agitated, wrestling with the moral complications of what he was doing. On one hand, bring Steve back. On the other hand… _Loki_ , and all the trouble associated with him.

There was little time for contemplation; a fist swung in his direction and he nearly wound up with a face full of knuckle. He weaved, pushing into Loki.

“ _Watch it_ ,” Loki hissed, ducking to avoid another blow.

The hallways were crowded and Tony could have _sworn_ he heard whistles. The Guards? Or an overactive imagination?

He was cold inside; his stomach was writing, twisting into knots. He felt like he could have been sick. No--No time for that. He had to focus. They were close, they just had to get out. He could make sure they were hidden on Earth.

For the first few minutes, Tony and Loki were working towards the same goal, just in different ways. They pushed their way further into the prisons but their moves were destructive to both of them. Tony had kicked Loki twice and Loki had elbowed him just as many times. Intentionally, they seemed to step on each other’s feet whenever retaliation was necessary.

But, somewhere along the way, they stopped moving so out of order. Somewhere along the way they started to move in sync.

Five minutes in, and moving towards the secret exit Loki claimed existed, they were working together.

Some brute four heads taller than Loki raised his fist to pummel them.

Loki didn’t flinch away; he took a step back and swung the arm latched to Tony. The momentum got Tony off the ground. Loki pivoted, giving Tony the perfect opportunity to kick the giant in the throat.

The landing was perfect; Loki slowed his spin and adjusted his posture to give Tony a clean landing and the second he was back on his feet, they were off running again.

They didn’t comment on it; there was no witty banter, no clever taunts. They were grim faced and determined, both hoping that when they stepped out of this building, Odin wasn’t going to be there blocking their path.

“Here,” Loki said after a few more seconds of running. They skidded to a stop in front of a blank wall. 

Before Tony had time to ask if his eyes were failing, Loki kicked the wall. A stone pushed in and a green light flashed, for only a second.

Outwardly, it didn’t look like anything had changed.

Loki ran at the wall, dragging Tony with him--and they passed through it.

It was cold, like being dunked in cold water, but it wasn’t unpleasant. Tony forgot how to breathe for a second; his body told him it was too cold to inhale, or that he’d drown. It felt like he was falling.

But Loki was there, still running. Still dragging him along.

He pushed past the burning sensation in his lungs to get a full breath of air before hissing, “Warning?”

“Waste of breath,” Loki replied shortly; his build typically provided him more stamina, more endurance than the human next to him, but his time in his cell and the absence of his magic left him feeling very out of shape. He was doing his best to hide it, but his own energy was depleting rapidly.

Tony pretended to be annoyed but the truth was, seeing Loki trying to conceal his deep, rapid breathing reminded him that he wasn’t doing so well either. The lack of proper sleep and food was wearing on him and--not that he would have admitted it--he was getting lightheaded. He needed something to focus on, though. “How far?” he demanded.

Loki clearly did not want to answer; Tony watched the man grit his teeth and _felt_ Loki pick up the pace. For which, Tony immediately resented him. His legs were burning. He couldn’t make it for much longer.

Not four steps later, Tony’s legs gave out from under him.

He expected he’d tripped and would hit the ground, only, one second passed. Two.

There was no ground; they were falling.

Fear gripped his stomach, suddenly; Tony was used to flying, and falling, but he was usually _prepared_. He craned his neck even as the wind blew through his hair. Behind him, the ledge they had just leapt from. As quickly as he could, Tony snapped his neck to look at Loki.

Their arms were still hooked together and Tony realized suddenly that Loki had drawn his arm to his side, _closer_

But that wasn’t all he noticed.

As their hair whipped around them, Tony finally got a good look at Loki. When they weren't being attacked or running for their lives, he could take in the smaller details. Like, for example, that Loki’s neck was mottled with bruises. There were red scratches behind his ear and trailing down his nape. He had a black eye.

The injuries might not have surprised him if they weren’t so defined; they didn't look fresh. Truthfully, Tony hadn't expected to escape the dungeons with so little injuries, but he doubted Loki had been taking any blows for him. He hadn't even _seen_ Loki get hit. 

Even if he had, it wouldn’t have explained the dark bruises. They seemed more like they were old, in mid to late stages of healing.

Naturally, Tony had questions, but he couldn't ask. Not just because they couldn't afford distractions, but because the cold air was putting so much pressure on his chest that he found it hard to breathe. They were plummeting through darkness and though he couldn’t see the ground, it felt like they should be hitting the ground any second now.

Loki didn't seem to be afraid, though. He kept the same calm, passive face. He was determined, focused.

It was almost reassuring, until Tony remembered that he was dealing with a _Trickster_ who was probably more interested in looking after himself than he was Tony.

Electing to remain silent and try to focus on his breathing, Tony closed his eyes and tried to calm his heart. He’d survived greater falls, but he was wearing armor then. Now, he only had an emergency suit--or, at least, the compact pieces of it. He could fly out of here if he needed to. Probably.

...But Loki was in the same position, watching the walls fall. He looked almost like he was in a kneeling position.

Faint voices began to echo throughout the the cavern they were falling through but Tony couldn’t see anyone--above, below. So far as he could tell, it was just the two of them. 

The whispering grew louder but he couldn’t make out any of the words. It didn’t sound like it was a foreign language but neither did it sound familiar. He was struck with a dizzying headache and might have lost the contents of his stomach if he wasn’t hell-bent on not looking weak in front of Loki.

“Almost there,” Loki said, so quietly that Tony almost missed it.

Tony was not the most patient of men, so when nothing had changed fifteen seconds later he began to grow agitated.

“Where are we going?” he snapped, trying to peer into the darkness below them. By now, the ledge they’d jumped from was so far gone he couldn’t see it.

Loki’s lip curled; he was every bit as agitated as Tony but tried to keep an even voice, “I assumed you had wanted to leave Asgard.”

“Obviously. We need to be on Earth.”

“Obviously.”

“Is that where we’re going?”

“Yes. Eventually.”

Tony’s eyes narrowed. A cold had flushed through him, different from just the wind blowing past them. This was a frosty cold, like being dropped into a half frozen river. “Eventually?” he asked flatly. “You’re not the one making the plans here.”

“Be realistic, Stark. You came in here with half a plan. You _need_ me to fill in the rest.”

Tony scoffed, though only because it was true. He just couldn't admit that out loud. Instead, he said, “I don’t trust you.”

Loki didn't bat an eye. When he replied, his voice was flat and dry, “I’m hurt, truly.”

Tony’s teeth began to chatter as the cold worsened. “We need to go to Earth.”

“I’m _working_ on it!” Loki finally snapped; even in his anger, he sounded quiet. “I don't have a door that leads _right_ to your Tower, and if I _did_ , I wouldn't leave it _here_. Just relax! This is a detour. Now, shut up and let me concentrate or we won’t get anywhere!”

Once more, Tony scoffed, but instead of speaking he decided to cross his arms over his chest and try to focus on staying warm. Loki’s arm was still locked with his, but Loki was only just barely warmer than the air around them.

While the chill worsened, the wind whipping around them slowly lessened and their descent slowed. Instead of falling, it now felt like hovering downward. Tony’s hair stopped slapping against his face and Loki’s longer locks settled into a fluffy mess at his shoulders. Somehow, it still looked good on him.

Either Loki had become suspicious of the silence or noticed Tony looking at him; suddenly, those green eyes were staring into his. 

“Can I help you?”

Tony recognized the wry callousness and was becoming convinced that wasn't anything personal against him, it must have just been Loki’s natural way of speaking. He couldn’t tell the man that he was checking out his hair, so instead he sputtered, “When did you get hit?”

It was the wrong conversation starter, apparently; Loki glowered at him, sneered, and tore his gaze away. “Asgard is full of brutes. You know my brother well enough.”

“Yeah, but he doesn’t exactly walk around giving people black eyes. You get in some prison brawl?”

“Something like that.”

There was bitterness in his voice and Tony watched him closely as he tried to read him. Loki had been in a cell by himself, isolated from the others. He doubted anyone was foolish enough to leave him where he could get to anyone--but he’d always thought of Loki as the bullying type. Not the sort to let someone beat him around.

Whatever happened, Tony was certain that Loki had deserved it. Probably gotten lippy with a guard, or Odin had some sense of justice of his own to distribute.

There were people on Earth who would have wished worse for him, and if Tony didn’t need him right now, he might have been one of them.

They both lapsed into silence. They were tired, out of breath, and planning their next move. Tony liked the silence so he could figure things out, but he didn’t like the idea of giving Loki time to scheme. He wanted to disrupt his planning, make sure he wasn’t up to anything. He figured it was suspicious that so far, Loki hadn’t tried to escape. There were a few instances already where he could have let go of Tony, tried to knock him out, run.

But, he didn’t. Even now, Loki still kept his arm locked with Tony’s and, strangely enough, Tony realized that Loki had the firmer grip. Like _he_ was the one trying to keep them together.

The cold suddenly intensified and it felt like liquid was bleeding through the fabric of his pants. Tony glanced down and grimaced when he realized that they had landed in some shallow, half-frozen stream. When he stood, the water reached his ankles and he was grateful he was wearing his boots.

He assumed they were in some sort of cave; it was dark, but not so much that he couldn’t see anything. Light trickled through the cracks in the wall, and judging by the windflow and light glow, there was an exit nearby.

Loki rose with Tony and began walking away from it solemnly.

“Whoa,” Tony protested, planting his feet firmly on the ground. “You need to give me more to go off of. Where are we, and where are we going?”

Loki was taller than Tony, only slightly, and when the man gazed down at him it just made Tony angry. He had half a mind to stand on the rock near to them just so he was the taller one. Loki spoke, disrupting his thoughts; “The only place the All-Father would not readily set foot. We are in Jotunheim, for the moment. They will not know where we have gone, but we do not have much time. If you wish to escape Heimdall’s eyes, you’ll stay close to me. Obviously I don’t have magic to conceal myself. If you wish for my assistance, this is a necessity.”

Tony kept his lips pursed but exhaled and shook his head. “Yeah. Yeah, whatever,” he finally agreed, giving his nod of approval. Loki turned and began leading him further away from the light. Deeper into the cave, into the shadows. It was hard to see, so when Loki nearly walked right into a rock, Tony opened his mouth to warn him, but the words died on his lips when Loki simply passed _through_ the rock.

Tony followed and he too passed through it, hating the sensation of water passing over him-- _through_ him. But Loki had not flinched or faltered, and that meant he couldn’t either. They were walking in pitch black darkness now, and while Tony stumbled over rocks, Loki never missed a step. The one time Tony nearly fell, Loki had even caught him.

He expected to be taunted, but Loki was quiet and just kept moving deeper down the cavern.

Tony didn’t even protest, and if it had been any warmer he might have taken off a few layers of clothes so the reactor in his chest could illuminate his path. He didn’t want Loki to be aware of what gadgets he had in his bag so figured he could keep them hidden until he absolutely needed them.

Which might be soon at this rate; Tony hated the helpless sensation that began to burn in the pit of his stomach.

He had this thing about caves. Especially when he was being lead around by strange men and couldn’t see a thing.

He might not have been blindfolded, but suddenly he was thinking about sand and guns instead of frost and Loki.

His heartbeat accelerated and a cool sweat began to cover him; it was all he could do just to focus on keeping his breathing quiet.

“Here,” Loki said suddenly, jostling him from his thoughts. 

“What?” Tony asked instinctively, trying to sift through the fog of memories and nightmares and work his way back into the present.

“What I need is here. You’ll have to get it for me. There is a chest, by my feet.”

Tony couldn't see it, but he could hear Loki nudging something with the tip of his boot. 

It would have been easier to let go of Loki’s arm and kneel down to open the chest, but even when Tony attempted to slide his arm out of Loki’s he found it kept with a strong grip. He tugged once more, but Loki didn’t let up.

“Okay,” Tony said after a second, “Then, get down with me.”

“Fine.”

They knelt, and Tony reached into the darkness and felt around. His hand touched something cold and he felt around for a latch. “Is it booby-trapped?”

“Naturally.”

Tony’s hand froze; he had just unlatched the trunk and began to push it up. “...Were you going to _warn_ me?”

“Just close your eyes.”

“Seriously, don’t trust you.”

“Well, unless you’d rather _unbind my hands_ , we don’t have many options.”

But Loki didn’t ask, and Tony hadn’t expected him to be so obliging. Which meant he was up to something.

Wow, go figure.

Tony sucked it up and shoved open the trunk, squeezing his eyes shut as he did so.

A bright light filled the cavern; it reminded Tony of a flash bomb. Heat flooded the area and while it stung, within a few seconds Tony began to felt himself thawing out. He chanced opening an eye and squinted around the room.

Fire blazed on all walls, sealing them in the room. 

Before Tony could ask, Loki answered, “Frost Giants are not so fond of open flame.”

Tony nodded but couldn’t help but comment, “Seems like overkill. I doubt a Frost _Giant_ even make it down these narrow paths.”

Loki’s response was dry, “No, but a _runt_ could. You can never be too careful. Reach in there, there’s an amulet. Gold, circular, onyx stone in an eye carving.”

A quick glance into the chest made Tony think this might take a while; Loki had amassed a small collection of miscellaneous trinkets, the largest of which seemed to be no larger than a baseball. He had more jewelry than he’d seen in any woman’s collection, and some of the pieces seemed to be feminine enough that he side-eyed the male.

“You have enough outfits to match all of these?”

“Very funny. Odin might even enjoy that. Why don’t you take longer so you can tell that again when he gets here?”

Tony was smirking but continued digging through the chest. “You have anything here that might help?”

“Yes, I do. Do you need me to describe it to you again? Amulet, gold, circular, onyx stone in--”

“I _meant_ for bringing back the dead,” Tony said, now scowling. 

“No. And if I did, I wouldn’t hide it somewhere like this. Something like that would require much more protection.”

Tony sighed and dug deeper into the trunk. “Do you even know what all of these do? Are they all magical or are you just a hoarder?”

“I wouldn’t keep things that had no value.”

“Not the sentimental sort, then?”

“Please, can we keep the questions for later? It is _imperative_ that you find that amulet, _now_.”

Tony paused. There was something in the way that Loki spoke that made him immediately wrack his mind for a second meaning. Loki might have been good at hiding his thoughts, motivations, emotions--but there was something else going on here. Loki had seemed tough earlier, back when he was in Asgard. In his own element, probably. But this was something else. His bravado had fallen away, probably at the same time _they'd_ started falling.

Tony hadn't known before, but he could place it now.

Loki was scared of something.

He seemed spiteful when he spoke of Odin and Heimdall, like they were an annoyance. They had the power to disrupt his plans, but Loki did not seem to shrink away when either of their names were mentioned. This was something else.

Just another piece of another puzzle, though. Tony didn't care who Loki was scared of if it meant it kept him in line.

If it meant he brought Steve back, Tony didn't care at _all_.

He stopped screwing around and pulled out the only amulet that really fit the description. Immediately, Loki recognized it and reached out a hand like he intended to take it himself. He froze when he realized his hands were still bound. He lowered his hands and instead turned to Tony. "Put it on me. Quickly."

Tony hesitated, running his fingers over the cold metal. His eyes lingered on the strange artifact and he searched for some clue that it wasn't what Loki said it was.

He couldn't read whatever runes were carved into it, and he wasn't familiar enough with Asgardian or Jotun magic to know if Loki's words were truth.

But, he was cold, and running from Gods, and sick, exhausted, and sleep-deprived.

Tony loosened his arm from Loki's and draped the amulet over his neck.

The moment the amulet fell against his chest, it flashed white and then promptly dimmed. Loki breathed a sigh of relief and nodded. "We can leave now. Close the chest."

Though he obliged, Tony didn't like taking orders. The trunk clicked shut and he locked it for good measure. The fires were still burning, so Tony glanced to the male next to him. "No more detours."

"No more," Loki agreed; he seemed to have relaxed a bit, but Tony noted how it only made him look tired. Without being prompted, Loki held out his arm so Tony could hook his around it again. He was almost acting like a willing prisoner which, one one hand, meant Tony wasn't chasing him down or fighting. So, that was good. On the other hand, it meant that something wasn't adding up . 

Tony had wasted enough time so he simply took Loki's arm again, muttering, "I usually save this pleasure for a beautiful woman. You ought to count yourself lucky. Most don't get to be my arm candy for so long."

"Please," Loki said, exasperated. "I understand the need to run your mouth, but please stop talking. I don't care how many women you've bedded, and I don't care who you drag around on your arm. I'm not here to be your friend, and you're not here to be mine. I hold no illusions for what awaits me back at your tower. I don't anticipate this will end well for me--be it because you return me to Asgard, give me to SHIELD, throw me into space--it doesn't matter. So just _stop talking_. I can get you to Midgard, but that's as much as I will promise. I trust you can manage transportation once we're there?"

Tony's lips were pursed tightly and he found himself rolling his eyes. "What, mojo running out?"

Loki side-eyed him. "Because travelling between three realms is _so_ easy, right?"

"Would have only been two if you didn't make an extra stop."

"This was _necessary_ ," Loki pressed.

"Who are you hiding from?" Tony asked, agitation bubbling. He didn't like Loki's attitude and it wasn't difficult to direct his frustrations at everything onto the man at his side. He blamed Loki for nearly everything that had gone wrong in the past year.

For the Chitauri. For the nightmares. The PTSD. Losing Pepper. Maybe, if those things hadn't happened, he wouldn't have screwed things up during the last mission. Maybe, if Loki had never come to town, he wouldn't have been so fucked up that he'd _made_ that mistake.

He'd hit a sore spot and could tell; Loki went rigid but before he could retort, Tony continued, "Because, I'd really like to meet whoever's got you just about pissing yourself."

Because Loki had been so complacent, Tony had expected a few jabs, a few eyerolls. He did not expect Loki to lean in. They were nearly nose to nose and Tony could see the feral, rabid look in his eyes.

Loki's jaw was clenched and he seemed gaunt and fearful. " _Do not talk about what you don't understand_."

Tony felt a lump in his throat--not fear, but something else.

Understanding.

Loki wasn't just afraid, he was terrified--and every time he got called out on it, he did a piss-poor job of hiding it.

Which meant that whatever Loki was afraid of, Tony should have been too. Especially if he was planning on harboring him.

It wasn't permanent, though. Just until he brought Steve back. Maybe this would only be a few days, maybe only a few weeks.

If he got Steve, no one could blame him. They could return Loki to Asgard and live happily ever after, and hopefully Odin wouldn't smite him just for being so disrespectful.

Maybe Thor would even forgive him, one day.

For a long moment, the two stayed staring into each other's eyes, trying to read each other. Tony relented, not out of weakness, but out of necessity. He jerked his head to the side, towards the fire. "How do we get out of this?"

Loki's eyes narrowed for a fraction of a second as he processed Tony's words. He acted like he'd misheard them and then glanced towards the blazing walls. "We're not going out."

He glanced towards what appeared to be a very small, very shallow pool of water. 

"We're going _down_."


	7. Chapter 7

_Down_ wasn't exactly the whole truth.

Loki lead Tony over to the shallow pool and nodded towards it.

Tony approached cautiously and, while he had learned that things were not always as it seemed, this looked pretty straightforward. He toed the water with his boot and, just as he had expected, the water only rose to about his ankle. "Down?" he questioned dryly.

"You have to jump in. But you have to imagine it like a doorway, like an opening. If you imagine a puddle, you'll get a puddle--and you'll get nowhere."

"What sort of magic is that, then? That's not an illusion."

"I'd love to argue the different types and functions of magic, but can't you just be satisfied knowing that there's your way out?"

"I like to know where I'm going and what to expect. I can imagine a doorway, but how am I supposed to know what to expect on the other side?"

Loki reached up to rub at his face but, once again met with the handcuffs, seemed to growing more agitated. He drew in a calming breath and tried to speak evenly. "Expect Midgard. And water."

"That's all?"

"That's all," Loki confirmed.

Though Tony doubted it, he nodded. "This puddle's not very large. You're going to stay close?"

It might have been poised as a question, but they knew the truth. It was an order.

"If I must," Loki replied. "But when I step through the portal, you need to be on the same page as me. You need to understand it's a doorway. If you don't, you'll be stuck here."  


"Oh, and you'll be out there, all on your own?"

Loki did not seem to appreciate Tony's sarcastic concern. "If I must," he replied dryly.

"If you run, I'll make sure SHIELD tracks you down I'll get Thor, Odin, Heimdall--everyone you can think of on Earth, looking for you. You won't make it far. There won't be a single corner in this entire universe you can hide."

It was a dark threat, and Tony knew there was no way he could see that promise through, but Loki didn't need to know that. It was a good lie, though--Tony sounded so convincing he almost even believed himself.

It was just supposed to keep Loki in line; it wasn't supposed to send a tremor through him.

"The Universe is a vast place, Stark. I know its shadows better than you. I doubt you could find me if I didn't want to be found."

"Like now, right? Is the Universe really so vast that you think hiding out on Earth is the best idea?"

"I thought we agreed to drop this."

"Yeah, see--I change my mind a lot. You're going to have to get used to that," Tony drawled.

Loki looked at the clear pool. The rocks were visible at the bottom, and truly it _was_ a good trick.

From the time when he had the magic to _do_ things.

Loki wanted his magic back now more than anything. 

It simply wasn't going to happen, though. Not like this.

Maybe one day Tony would slip up, or Loki would unlock the secret to Odin's binding, but Loki wasn't going to get his magic back while standing in a dark, fire-filled cave on Jotunheim.

Instead of giving Tony the pleasure of a response, he instead instructed, "Hold your breath."

Naturally, Tony assumed it was Loki telling him to shut up.

Which was a mistake, because one minute he had his mouth open to demand answers, and the next Loki had jumped into the shallow pool of water, dragging him with him.

Only, this time the water didn't stop at his ankles.

This time, he felt like he was being sucked through some underwater vortex.

Cold water rushed over him, crushing his chest and depriving him of all the air in his lungs. It was dark, but for only a second. He kept his eyes open the entire time--a mistake, he realized, when they were suddenly burning. The last thing he'd seen before he squeezed them shut was pale blue surrounding them, and white lights streaming lazily from above.

His mouth opened instinctively in a breathless gasp and he tasted salt.

The ocean.

Tony had been painfully unprepared, and it felt like the water alone could crush him. For a split second, he forgot how to swim. He felt a tug next to him and realized that, where he was doing nothing, Loki was dragging them to the surface. 

The seconds dragged by as Tony began to kick at the same pace as the man next to him.

But that's all it was--seconds.

They couldn't have been more than twenty, thirty feet below. Suddenly a cool breeze met his face and Tony forced his eyes open. Squinting around, he noticed two things. First, that they weren't so very far from land.

Second, _they weren't so very far from Stark tower_.

Tony took a few breaths as he tried to ration this, but before he could really _appreciate_ the situation, Loki was already tugging him along as they swam towards the shoreline.

"Hey," Tony said, half relieved that they were so close to _home_...

And half furious that Loki's idea of a shortcut to Midgard just _happened_ to be two minutes from his _house_?

"Not now," Loki replied, voice strained. Swimming was more difficult for him; he didn't have his arms to assist, and the metal didn't seem like it had been designed to be comfortable--or light.

Tony sort of didn't care. Let him wear himself out _before_ they got to Earth. It would make getting him into a saferoom all the easier. Admittedly, Tony swam a bit when he felt like it, but for the most part he let Loki do the work.

Twice, he caught Loki glaring at him, and each time Tony had feigned putting more effort into it than he really was.

Within ten minutes, he could reach the bottom of the ocean. He wished he had pulled out some technology to hasten the trip, but he was afraid of opening his bag. It was some degree of waterproof, if only because he liked to prepare for the worst, but realistically he had no idea if the prolonged swim had allowed the ocean to seep into his belongings.

He _really_ hoped not. He still had those papers--Loki's.

Curiosity compelled him to actually put some effort into it, so it was Tony's turn to tug a slowing Loki. "Come on," he instructed, ignoring the glare Loki shot at him as he stumbled through the crashing waves. "I need to get you inside before anyone sees."

This, Loki could at least agree with.

Five minutes of silent trudging later, Tony was pulling Loki into his home and ordering Jarvis to put up all security measures and shut the whole place down to everyone.

"I've upheld my end of the bargain," Loki began, but Tony cut him off with a sharp, "You got us here. You've still got a hell of a lot more to do before you've upheld anything."

Loki pursed his lips and his mood seemed to sour. "Let me rephrase then. _Now what_?"

"Now?"

Hell, it was a good question. Tony was still piecing things together. "Now, I'm going to put you in a room and you're going to behave. Someone from Asgard will be here to look for me, eventually. So I'll lie."

"Mm," Loki agreed, but he seemed more interested in the lie Tony intended to tell. "Go on."

"You broke out," he began.

"It was only a matter of time," Loki agreed, playing along with Tony's story.

"You knew I was there. You wanted revenge."

"Against you?"

"Of course. It's my fault you got caught."

"I wouldn't say that, exactly."

"Well, I'm saying it--what are you going to do, jump out from your hiding place and correct me?"

Loki seemed unamused, and with his silence, Tony continued: "We fought. I took a few blows to the head. I got some good blows in, I'm going to tell them that. But you had a cheap shot. I blacked out. When I came to, you were talking to someone. I couldn't make out the words. I tried to run, you caught me, tackled me, we rolled on the ground, right off a cliff. I hit the water, woke up floating in the ocean. Jarvis picked up my signal and sent out a recovery unit."

It occurred to Loki, as he watched Tony waggle his eyebrows, that he wanted praise. Loki denied it and simply scoffed.

"Interesting that you would choose to tell your own rendering of a story instead of relying on _The God of Stories_."

Tony scoffed. His arm was still looped around Loki's and he pulled him to the elevator. "I'm going with it. It'll probably be Thor, you know. I'll just show him some bumps and bruises and he won't think to question anything else. But I need you out of the way. I don't know when he'll get here, but my security system won't stand up to him."

"Where are we going?" he asked, watching as Tony pressed a button on the elevator that he'd missed upon first glance; it seemed that it was designed to be invisible. Which made sense, of course, if Tony didn't want anyone to know where he was hiding Loki.

"To your room."

Silence passed between the two; Tony was unwilling to say more and yet, Loki waited patiently. When the elevator began moving downward, he cleared his throat. "Which is, where?"

Tony was quiet for a few more seconds and then shrugged. "Honestly, the less you know, the better. For me. All you need to know is that you'll have a room. You won't leave it unless I give you permission. You'll be doing your work in there."

Tony sounded pleased with himself, glad that things were coming together. Steve would be back soon, all of his mistakes would just go away. He stood a little straighter and his eyes almost seemed to sparkle.

Loki was watching him, though his reaction was the opposite. He seemed to hunch into himself, just slightly, and his eyes narrowed. "You enjoy that, don't you?"

It was poised as a question, but it was an observation.

"Enjoy what?" Tony asked, sliding his attention to the pale man next to him.

"The idea of keeping me prisoner."

"Oh, I do?" Tony feigned coyness, but inside, a little voice told him that he needed to be on guard. He didn't like Loki analyzing him. He had learned, the last time Loki had been around, that he could get into your head.

Tony was smart, but Loki was, too. He kept his answer short in an attempt to deny Loki further information to tear apart.

"Yes," Loki said simply. "...What is it, the power? Do you think, having me here, means you've won? That you're better than me?"

Tony shrugged, feigning thought. He flashed Loki a cocky grin. "Yep."

The elevator opened and he pulled Loki quickly through a room that looked to be another workstation. He gave Loki little time to examine any of the machines, but Loki could tell that these were something else. These weren't like his little suits or fun little projects--these machines were strange. Some of them looked sinister.

Loki might not have had his magic, but he could _feel_ something, radiating, from the room.

"Stark," he began, and the tone almost seemed so sincere, so full of concern, that Tony faltered.

But then he reminded himself that Loki was responsible for this situation. If he connected the metal wires enough, Loki was responsible for Steve's death.

He jerked Loki along a little harder, secretly pleased when the man stumbled.

It was a dark feeling, but in a way, he blamed Loki for that too. Loki hadn't seem afraid when he accused Tony of enjoying the power. Loki must have known what it meant to be a prisoner of war.

That's what he was. And as long as he was useful, Tony had need of him. He would spare him from Odin's prisons, and from his brother's wrath.

And from whatever else he was hiding from.

They had a shared project--Loki must help Tony revive Steve. That was Tony's goal, of course. But a secondary goal had blossomed in his mind, something else to focus on when they hit road blocks with Steve.

He was going to find out what Loki was scared of.

And maybe scare him a little along the way.

It was, after all, only fair.

Loki had already given Tony nightmares. 

He deserved some of his own.

Tony shook his head, dismissing the thought. The dark seed of wrath, of vengeance, was planted in him a long time ago. Anger and loss had only made it grow. Being around Loki was making him dangerous.

He needed to put him in a room, and step away. At the very least, until he knew he'd gotten away with this.

Loki was leaning heavily on Tony but he was trying not to. It was a weakness he didn't want to show, but fatigue was wearing the man out. In a small act of kindness, Tony pretended not to notice. He reached the end of a long hallway and pressed a button, revealing an intricate keypad. Quickly, he typed a code into it and thick metal doors clicked and then slowly pried themselves open.

Loki watched, somewhat fascinated.

A room revealed itself--small, but slightly more pleasant than the cell he'd been in.

There was a cot, a restroom, a sink, a mirror. A few miscellaneous clothes in the closet, and a towel. It was gray and white, and might have even passed for a cheap hotel room, if not for the camera shining down into the center of the room. Only now, Tony released Loki's arm and gave him a little push in. "You can rest here for a bit. I'm going to get cleaned up, and I'll be back with food and we'll start going over plans."

Loki did not argue; instead, he nodded. "Then, I have but one request."

Though he had half a mind to say no and walk away immediately, Tony decided he could humor Loki and at least hear him out. He nodded for the other man to go on.

Loki simply held up his wrists, quietly asking Tony to remove the manacles he had fastened onto him.

It was dangerous, but they were both soaking wet. Loki would need to get out of his wet, salty outfit, and as much as Tony thought he might enjoy putting Loki through the humiliation of requiring someone else bathe him, it was something he didn't want to put himself through today.

Begrudgingly, he nodded and took a step forward.

The tower shook, and the lights flickered and burned out for a moment. A generator kicked on and new lights, dimmer, hummed to life.

Tony and Loki both froze, staring blankly at each other.

Loki was still holding his wrists out, but Tony took a step back and pressed the lock button on the door.

The last look he saw on Loki's face before the heavy metal doors closed was frustration--and fear.

Neither of them had expected Thor to arrive so soon.


	8. Chapter 8

Tony had barely made it back to the elevator before he heard Thor’s booming voice from what must have been _floors_ away. A lump had built in his throat and despite all the mental planning he found his palms sweating and a lump growing larger in size and weight in both his stomach and throat. He was lightheaded already and he hadn’t even _seen_ the man.

Thor called his name again with such ferocity that Tony could have sworn he felt ringing in his ears. He pressed two buttons in the elevator with a force that mimicked his need to be in front of Thor before he started smashing through walls.

The ten seconds it must have taken to reach one of the upper floors felt almost as long as the swim to shore and somehow seemed to drain twice as much energy. He had enough thought to shrug his bag off in a corner and _hope_ that Thor didn’t catch sight of it.

The elevator doors sprung open just in time for Tony to catch sight of _red_ as it disappeared around a corner.

Thor was pacing, rapidly searching; his cape billowed behind him. He growled, a strange noise. It wasn’t of anger but Tony might have guessed desperation. Tony wasn’t used to the anxiety that suddenly flooded through him at the prospect of getting caught; he _knew_ he was smart enough to talk his way out of most things but for the first time in a long time, he was _afraid_. There was more on the line than just his ego—there was his prize—his prisoner, he corrected—and Steve. Possibly even his freedom or his life, depending on how they felt about springing prisoners.

“Thor,” Tony croaked, surprised at the _weakness_ in his voice. He hadn’t meant to sound so vulnerable but Thor’s face appeared around the corner once more.

The larger man charged at him; he moved so quickly that Tony braced for an attack.

Thor’s hugs probably should have counted as an attack. His breath was pushed from his lungs and he could have sworn he heard his bones croak.

“Tony,” Thor breathed and squeezed _tighter_. “I thought you were lost.”

It was a struggle to speak but Tony realized the problem was more than just the crushing pressure on his chest. The lies left his mind and he fumbled to form words.

A few seconds of desperate searching and Thor seemed aware of Tony’s mortal frame and released him, quickly reaching a hand out to clutch at the drenched fabric of his shirt. “What happened?” he demanded with such ferocity that Tony thought he was being scolded.

Thor wore an expression of tenderness, though.

Concern.

Tony wondered how Loki had turned out so bad with a brother that cared _so much_.

He coughed and flashed a weak attempt at a smile. “You’re not going to tell me?”

The smile was not returned.

“Asgard was under attack. Someone was in the prisons.”

Tony feigned ignorance with perfection. His squinted eyes and pensive demeanor was enough to spurn Thor to continue. “We returned many to their cell, but some escaped.”

If Tony had not already known that Loki was missing amongst their numbers, he would have been able to tell by the way his voice wobbled. 

“Some?” Tony prompted, letting Thor guide him into an opening.

“Loki,” Thor answered simply. His brows were knit and he watched Tony’s expression carefully.

“Oh. Yeah. Him.”

It was Thor’s turn to wait expectantly and Tony tended to the Asgardian’s curiosity by gesturing to his drenched outfit. “This isn’t exactly how I was planning on spending my evening. Or day,” he glanced out of the nearest window, eying the bright blue sky with disdain. 

“I assumed as much,” Thor confessed. “The lock on his room was broken. You weren’t in your room. When you were both gone, I feared the worst. Where is he?” He glanced around the room with a stony look.

Tony wondered if Thor might have thought Loki was hiding behind the furniture or something; he must have known that Odin’s bindings limited Loki’s magic. “I don’t know.” Tony reached up to rub at his temple. 

To Thor, it only looked as if he were trying to recollect. 

In a way, Tony was—only, he was trying to recollect the _lie_. “I think I was on my way to my room. I don’t remember. Something hit my head. I remember seeing him, I _think_ ,” he stressed, “But he overpowered me. It was my own fault, I haven’t been sleeping well. My stomach won’t hold anything down—ever since Steve…”

His voice trailed off. It was a manipulative tactic but it was one he knew Thor was weak to. He didn’t have to look up to meet Thor’s eyes to know that the man had bristled; Thor reached over to clasp his shoulder reassuringly. He did not see Thor nod but he could feel it.

Tony cleared his throat, ignoring the fresh wave of guilt the swelled within him. “…I blacked out. I don’t know. I think I heard him talking to someone, it was dark. It wasn’t a language I understood. We must have fought?” Now, his eyes sought Thor’s, as if seeking some sort of validation. Thor gave it to him; he nodded encouragingly.

 _God, he was so gullible_. It hurt. Thor trusted him so much more than he deserved.

His voice wavered when he continued, trying to push past the doubt in his mind. He could have come clean—could have told Thor that Loki was in a cell of his own design. For a second it sounded like a good idea—but then he heard Steve calling his name.

Stronger than that, some voice whispered deep inside of him that he didn’t want to share.

“One minute I was standing still and the next I was falling. Off a cliff? It felt like I fell forever. I hit the water and when I went up for air I was here. Is he here?”

He glanced around the room. “I don’t think he followed me. Can’t Heimdall see him? –Can’t you track him or something?”

A muscle in Thor’s jaw clenched; Tony watched, impressed, as a vein bulged in his neck. The blonde shook his head. “No. Neither the Allfather nor Heimdall can see him. It is another of his tricks.”

“What do you think he’s going to do?”

Thor shook his head. “With Loki, can anyone know? Nothing good. I have to tell the Allfather. That is all you remember?” he pressed.

Thor’s eyes seemed to bore through Tony; he couldn’t meet his gaze this time. “I think so,” he answered. “Everything is blurry. Look, let me change out of these soaked clothes? I’ll think on it. Are you going to stick around, do you want me to go back to Asgard?”

Tony didn’t believe in God but he prayed that Thor would leave him be.

A long moment ticked by as he waited. Finally, Thor shook his head. “I cannot promise it would be safer in Asgard. You are welcome, of course! I do not know what Loki is scheming. He may come after you. After Earth. If he does…”

“If he does, we have the Avengers. And we can contact you. But there’s a universe out there, do you really think he’d come back to Earth after we kicked his ass?”

Thor did not hesitate. “I think, because of that, he will return. Loki is a sore loser.”

Tony managed a laugh, no matter how dry and beaten it was. “Then you need to find him.”

“Indeed.”

Thor sounded firm but he looked worried; it was only when the older man looked away that Tony realized just how tightly he was clutching Mjolnir.

“I’ll let you know if I find anything.” Tony tried to swallow the lump in his throat and forced himself to try and meet Thor’s gaze. “…I’m sorry.”

Thor shook his head. “No, Stark. You have nothing to apologize for.” Thor forced a smile that didn’t look remotely convincing, but Tony reciprocated a smile to make him feel better.

“You gonna be okay?”

“I should ask you! You are soaked, Stark. Put on dry clothes before you catch your death.”

Tony had no complaints with that; he nodded even as Thor started to pace around the room again. His voice boomed with what Tony suspected was forced vigor and he said, “I will look for Loki. When I know he is not here, I will return to Asgard. If I find anything, you shall be the second to know.”

“It’s a plan. And if I find anything, I’ll let you know.”

Thor nodded; he seemed like he wanted to give Tony another hug but was forcing himself away and trying to stay focused. “Thank you.”

“You okay letting yourself out?”

Thor nodded. “I know where the door is.”

Which begged the question, why had he come in through the ceiling? Tony could see the bent steel and the loose wires. He’d have it fixed before nightfall but he wasn’t going to worry about it now. He wanted to be out of the room before he slipped up, or guilt drove him to confess. He walked past Thor and clapped him on the shoulder. “Take care.”

“The same to you,” Thor insisted.

They lingered in silence for a moment and then Tony drew away. Thor could look; he wouldn’t find Loki. The less interested Tony seemed, the better. He’d go upstairs, pull up a bath, and try to play it cool.

He’d _try._

He hadn’t made it to his room before he was peeling off the salty clothes. A trail of soaked clothes followed him into the bathroom. Normally, he’d have commanded Jarvis to prepare the shower for him but he was lost in his thoughts and manually reached for the faucet. 

He was sticky, _filthy_. 

Loki must have been too, only he was still stuck in the clothes. Tony had not removed the manacles limiting his magic. A brief rush flooded through him but it did not occur to him to be ashamed until he realized he was standing there, naked, thinking about _Loki_. 

While a deceived Thor searched the tower for him. 

Tony was used to making messes but he was used to cleaning them up, too. 

Thor just needed to leave and he could think again. Maybe he’d eat, maybe even nap for a bit. 

And then they’d find some way to bring Steve back. 

Tony managed to enjoy the shower for as long as he could; he was a glutton for indulgence but more than that, he was hiding from Thor and the guilt he felt while lying to him. He took the time to enjoy the soap and shampoo and more hot water than he needed, all the while relishing in the fact that every moment he left Loki alone was another moment of discomfort. 

He should have been alarmed at the thoughts, but they were as addictive as any glass of alcohol—though, this was probably better for his liver. 

Not his karma, though. 

Loki was a puzzle, waiting to be solved. 

Sometimes, though, you had to take something apart to put it back together. 


	9. Chapter 9

A sickness was growing in Tony and he was too good at lying to himself to see it. His mind had been on Loki since before he got in the shower and it remained on him well afterwards. At first, the thoughts were innocent enough; he pretended like he was slowly approaching the idea, like if he didn’t immediately jump into thinking about things it would somehow make the thoughts less _evil_. He deliberately built a wall around the darker ideas, if only so he could pretend like he had to take time to wear away at it.

His thoughts were a monster’s; he pretended like it was curiosity that made him want to push at Loki’s buttons, to see what made him tick. Preventative measures could be taken against future attacks, from Loki or whatever outside forces wanted to cause harm or destruction to Earth. He could make machines, programs, _defense mechanisms_. Earth would never have another Chitauri attack.

Ad that wasn’t all! Why, if he knew how Loki worked, maybe he could even find a way to _fix_ him! 

A giddy chuckle slipped from his throat and when he caught his reflection in the stainless steel refrigerator in front of him he thought that he almost looked normal.

He wasn’t, of course, but he looked better today than he had in ages.

His life was in turmoil.

There was a God of Chaos, a terrorist, a criminal mastermind _in his basement_.

Thor had been gone for nearly two hours now and Tony had shown remarkable restraint in not running downstairs to check on his prisoner immediately. Instead, he’d taken a long shower and took some time to freshen up. Clean clothes made him feel like a new man, and the meal afterwards—shamefully, a Hot Pocket—was enough to give him a little extra energy. It was just enough to retrieve his bag from the elevator and check that the contents were still in one piece. The water hadn’t soaked through so he stashed everything away where they could be explored another day. He made it no further than his couch before his body decided to give out on him; he managed to crawl onto it and bury his face under a pillow. When he’d woken up again he realized that maybe he’d left Loki for long enough. Groggily he’d dragged himself to the kitchen and made a cup of coffee.

Which brought him to the fridge he was currently staring at.

He didn’t know how often Loki needed to eat, but if he was comparing his eating habits to Thor’s, he should be on his second full course meal already. Somehow, Tony couldn’t imagine Loki cleaning a plate the size of Thor’s, though. He could have prepared a nutritious meal or something quick but instead he grabbed a single apple. While the thought of serving _Loki_ a Hot Pocket suddenly seemed delightful, Tony found he could not justify an argument that promised Loki the reward of food when he’d done nothing to deserve it. Yet.

He whistled to himself as he made a game of tossing the apple into the air and catching it. It was easy to pretend like he wasn’t excited when he gave himself these simple distractions. He walked quicker than usual and _might_ have given the elevator buttons a few extra forceful pushes. It didn’t matter if he knew it wouldn’t make the elevator go quicker, it still _felt_ like it.

Butterflies were in his stomach again; when the elevator door opened on the bottom floor he half expected the room at the end of the hall—Loki’s room—to be busted open.

Instead, it was shut and locked and, so far as he could tell, _had_ been this entire time. It didn’t seem believable so Tony downed the rest of the coffee and set the cup on a small shelf on the wall. He pulled out his phone and sorted through the apps until he found the security system synced to the building. The camera for the room he’d put Loki in was one of the few cameras linked to a private server. While he suspected the majority of the Avengers, and SHIELD, couldn’t best his security system, he liked to be a little extra cautious.

It took a few seconds to load but suddenly, there was Loki, in a dimly lit room that barely passed as anything more than a cell. Tony didn’t know what he expected but Loki was visible—and _pacing_ , like a caged beast. He drew his phone closer to him and tried to zoom in on Loki’s face but even with his technology there was only so much he could do. He could make out the furrowed brows despite Loki’s effort to keep his face impassive. The pacing was a dead give away, either he was claustrophobic or genuinely concerned that Thor was going to find him. Maybe he thought Tony had been found out and taken to Asgard for punishment.

Tony was pulled from wandering thoughts when Loki suddenly spun quickly and jerked away from a corner. Instinctively, Tony took a step towards the locked room; Loki had acted as though he’d found some foe only, when Tony looked closer there was nothing there. Loki had bristled and backed away from one of the walls. His shoulders were hunched and his hands clenched into fists. 

Nothing moved for a long moment and then, finally, Loki relented. His head hung and he seemed to draw in a deep breath before shaking his head and standing up as tall as he could manage. A few seconds later, he was pacing again.

 _Interesting_.

A video was less interesting than the real thing, he supposed, so Tony closed his phone and shoved it into his pocket. He moved to the keypad and typed in a string of numbers. The door hissed open and Loki’s face appeared suddenly.

“Stark,” he greeted, not with pleasantness but relief.

“The one and only.”

“What happened?”

Tony cracked a wry grin. “Nothing I couldn’t handle.”

There was doubt in Loki’s face and Tony realized that whatever had shaken him before seemed to still have some hold over him. He peered around Loki into the room. Once more, Tony saw nothing.

Loki, however, saw him. Suspicious, he narrowed his eyes and followed Tony’s gaze into the room. “…Are you looking for something?” he challenged, in a tone laced with agitation.

“Always.”

A wave of delight flooded Tony’s system when Loki sneered. Apparently the quickest way to annoy the God was to give him dismissive answers. 

Loki released a heavy, annoyed sigh, and turned back to Tony. He held out his arms, once more reminding Tony that he was still bound.

Tony’s gaze drifted to the metal plating covering Loki’s hands. So far, they had made a decent enough team. Each had their own motivations, but was it really a _good_ idea to give Loki free reign of his hands?

The smell of apple was faint, but enough to remind Tony that he wasn’t going to hand feed his prisoner. “Relax. I’m going to take them off.”

Loki said nothing; he simply continued to hold out his hands. He wasn’t patient, but he wasn’t talking incessantly, so that was a good start.

The release contraption was nearly effortless—a design feature Tony had perfected after a few failed attempts that resulted in _his_ hands trapped in a tiny, metal prison. Waiting for someone to show up so he could talk them through releasing him wasn’t exactly an ideal way to spend his day so Tony had done his best to make this easy on himself. It took less than twenty seconds for the metal to hiss and peel away from Loki’s skin. The metal seemed to fold over itself and lock into another form that looked no different from a very geometric bracelet. Before it could fall to the ground, Tony grabbed it.

Though Odin’s manacles were still sealing Loki’s power, apparently the removal of Tony’s special handcuffs was enough to bring some relief to the man across from him. Loki stretched out his long, pale fingers tried to return some of their natural feeling. Tony noted that Loki took the time to analyze his hands for imperfections or injuries instead of immediately returning his gaze.

“Thor bought my story,” he said after a few seconds. This, it seemed, was enough to catch Loki’s attention. 

“Go on,” he insisted.

Tony shrugged. “There’s not much more to say. He’s out looking for you, and he’s going to give me an update. I’m to tell him if I catch wind of you.”

Loki’s green eyes were fierce enough that they felt as if they weren’t just tearing _into_ Tony, it felt as if they were tearing _through_ him. And yet, there was a vulnerability about him that he hadn’t seen before. Like a wild animal, caged, and prepared to strike against a captor they knew had bested them.

It sent an electric thrill through Tony.

He had bested a God.

Loki was here, by his design, to fulfil _his_ plan. And there was nothing he could do about it. He had no magic—and even if he had the strength of an Asgardian, Tony had suits that could hold their own against the best of them.

Loki licked his lips; the action itself was innocent, but Tony took the time to notice that they were parched. Probably from the sea water he’d left him in. Loki looked as though he had dried but he was far from the picture of perfect—or comfortable. His close seemed rigid, like they’d been over starched, and his hair looked like the product of too much hair spray and too much wind.

And yet, somehow Loki didn’t look terrible, and that bothered Tony more than he cared to admit.

He wanted to hate him, wanted to look into his face and see only ugliness, but standing a few feet away from him was distracting.

Thor was tanned and broad, bulging with muscles in places they probably didn’t belong. He was attractive in his own right, but it hadn’t been something Tony had given much consideration to. Women loved Thor, that was expected. Women loved _him_ too, so who cared if Thor had a magic hammer? He had money, and money could _buy_ him a magic hammer—or he could make one.

But Loki had no magic hammer or flowing golden hair: he was the opposite of Thor in so many ways. His hair was long and unkempt; a trim would have done wonders for him, but the wild look was probably closer to Loki’s true spirit. He was pale in such a way that Tony might have thought him sickly, but there was a strange glow about him. The only things of color on his face were his slightly pink cheeks and his lips. Sunburn for the cheeks, and maybe he’d been chewing on his lips?

It was hard to tell. He seemed underweight and probably had been from before his time within the Asgard dungeons. His clothes were of fine enough make but hung off of him as though they’d been made for someone else. 

His brows were knit but his face was otherwise emotionless—except for the eyes. The eyes that seemed to be swimming with questions and drowning under the scrutiny.

Tony thought he might have been handsome, in a very pretty way. He had a strength and beauty in his features and—

Tony’s breath caught in his throat when he realized where his thoughts were wandering because _checking out Loki_ had not been on the agenda for the evening. He forced a cocky grin and leaned against the doorframe. For a few seconds he didn’t know what he was doing, he just slipped into the part of Tony Stark, playboy billionaire philanthropist.

Who apparently kept prisoners of Earth for eye candy in his basement?

Loki’s eyes were on him, maybe trying to assess him in the way he was _supposed_ to be doing. There was a silence between the two of them that Loki hadn’t been aware of until he could hear his heart pounding in his ears.

“Now that that’s out of the way,” Tony began, noting how Loki seemed to relax when he started talking again, “Know that your stay and your protection are conditional. You’re only here until you can bring back Steve.”

“Only? And what happens afterwards?”

Loki would have no motivation to help if he thought he truly couldn’t get anything out of this, and Tony figured he’d started this thing by lying and things had gone well—so why not go on? What could go wrong, lying to _Loki_? 

So, Tony shrugged. “Negotiable. If you’re not attacking Earth—or letting anyone _else_ attack Earth, I don’t really care.”

Loki was naturally suspicious, so Tony didn’t flinch away or avert his eyes when he felt those green eyes boring into him. “You’re going to let me go,” Loki said flatly. There was too much disbelief in his voice for him to even _try_ to make it sound like a question.

“I wouldn’t say that,” Tony replied, wagging a finger at Loki. “Only good boys get rewards like _that_. But. If you bring Steve back and _don’t_ make me regret this, I’ll consider it. Of course, if you’ve _lied_ to me…”

Loki’s eyes flashed darkly but he was silent.

“…Then we’ll have some problems, and I guarantee _Odin_ isn’t going to be the worst of them.”

The threat was not lost on Loki but he barely seemed to react to it. “You want Steve Rogers?” he asked pointedly. “That’s all?”

“Alive,” Tony stressed. “I want a living, breathing Steve Rogers.”

The silence felt like it had a physical presence, like if it kept going on it could crush him. He held his breath in the same way Loki seemed to be doing.

Finally, Loki nodded. “Without magic, that isn’t going to be easy,” he warned.

But he hadn’t said no. _He hadn’t said no, and he hadn’t said it was impossible_.

“Well, magic’s out of the picture—”

“I assumed,” Loki interjected bitterly. “But I don’t _need_ it.”

Tony knew it was a lie, but it was a _damned good one_. Loki had virtually no tells and a slickness to his tone that made him _want_ to believe the words coming out of his mouth. With a grin, he tossed Loki the apple. “Well, what _do_ you need?

Loki caught the apple with dexterity but looked at it with mild disdain. “A bath, for starters. Clean clothes. A _workable_ location, perhaps?”

Tony nodded; they were all valid requests. “You know what happens if you try to leave, don’t you?”

Loki rolled his eyes. “I can assume.”

“You can,” Tony agreed, “But it’s probably not what I had in mind. Yeah, I mean. Of course I’ll haul you in. I’m not going to just call Asgard, though. First, I’ll make a really big, public spectacle about everything. I’ll make it so you’re in the spotlight. So _everyone_ sees you, knows right where you are. And without your magic—you’re really just a sitting duck, aren’t you?”

Loki had a tell, then. His nostrils flared and his brows twitched. He swallowed, hard.

It wasn’t anger, it was fear.

Loki was afraid of someone—but it wasn’t him.

A part of Tony wanted it to be him, though. Let Loki have nightmares like he did. Let Loki wake screaming, drenched in sweat and regret and the weight of things so far out of his control that he felt like _nothing_. Let him dream of betrayal and hurt and loss, and let him know _fear_.

Tony’s thoughts felt like a vortex, twisting violently. A whirlpool of darkness just leaking deeper into him. The thoughts were caught, trapped; they couldn’t escape. Only be pushed deeper inside, closer to his heart, his core.

His face was deceptively innocent, but he wondered if Loki could see into his eyes and if he _knew_.

“You know, I have many enemies. Not unlike yourself. Do you not think it would be unwise to guide them to your doorstep?” Loki tried. The words were like poisoned honey and Tony nearly ate it right up. 

“I think a lot of things I do are unwise, but if I didn’t do them my life would be very, very boring. No one’s killed me yet—and I have plenty of friends to bail me out. Oh! And an army of robots, so.”

Loki sneered half-heartedly. “If you truly believed there was someone out there capable of _scaring me_ , you would invite _him_ to your door?”

‘Him’. A good start, that only narrowed down half the population—and a little extra, if you were counting what he supposed to be supernatural or otherwise genderless entities.

“Oh, yeah. I like to watch you squirm.”

Loki’s jaw clenched and he rolled his eyes. He’d put on another mask but Tony was certain he could see the cracks in it. He wondered how long Loki had been wearing this one. “You’ll be sorely disappointed, then.”

“Somehow,” Tony wasn’t quite smiling now. “I doubt that.”

Another silence dawned between the two of them but they were still talking through their eyes. Loki’s eyes said ‘I’ll kill you’, and Tony’s said, ‘ _Try_ ’. Neither relented, but Tony’s smile grew.

Loki looked less threatening when he was dressed in stale clothes and Odin’s manacles. He exuded an otherworldly grace but it meant nothing when he was as helpless as a human.

A very smart and a very deceptive human, with hundreds of years of combat training.

Tony’s grin grew slowly and though this was a source of pride, Loki relented first. He realized that he wasn’t in the position he wanted to be in, and Tony had a _bit_ of an advantage. “I have no intention of leaving,” he snapped. “I’ll fulfill my end of the bargain. I don’t like unpaid debts, anyway.”

“How noble. I wasn’t sure you had that sense of dignity.”

“I was still raised a Prince of Asgard,” Loki warned. “Perhaps I am not as brazen as Thor but I won’t leave while you still have something over my head.”

“Says the God of Lies,” Tony reminded.

“Says the God of Lies,” Loki agreed. “To the broken human desperate for them.”

A sharp, stabbing pain prickled Tony’s heart and gut but he didn’t flinch. Instead, he forced a sharp, bitter grin and hoped his gaze was as piercing as Loki’s words. “Ouch.”

Loki seemed impassive but Tony suspected there was molten smugness churning beneath the faintly upturned lips. A part of him wanted to punch him as hard as he could in the face but the other part of him knew not to give Loki the satisfaction of seeing how deep that jibe stung him.

He laughed it off and turned away. He raised a hand for Loki to follow him. “I think I liked you better with the muzzle. Keep it up and I might get you a new one.”

Loki snorted from behind him but he followed and, to Tony’s surprise, did _not_ try to stab him with some hidden weapon or crudely designed shank.

“I’ll take you to get a shower and I’ll find you some clothes. We’re getting started tonight.”

“You’re really desperate to bring him back, aren’t you?”

Tony was quiet for a moment and stopped in front of a door. He pushed a button and it opened, revealing a bathroom only slightly smaller than Loki’s room. Their eyes locked.

“I’d do anything.”


End file.
